


Let No Man Tear Asunder

by LizzieRimmsy



Category: Boston Legal
Genre: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Multi, No Smut, Possible Spoilers, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2018-09-26 02:51:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 32,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9858791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizzieRimmsy/pseuds/LizzieRimmsy
Summary: Based off of Boston Legal, a "dramadey" about a law firm, Crane, Poole, & Schmidt, who towards the end of the final season, became broke and was bought out by a Chinese company. The show ended on December 8th, 2008. This follows along with a few episodes, part of the finale and I go into what I thought happened afterwards.Leaving off with the series finale, Alan Shore (the unethical, inappropriate, but extremely intelligent lawyer) has health issues, but various circumstances keep him from telling Denny Crane. (the also wildly inappropriate but talented lawyer, and Alan's "flamingo")





	1. Sufficiently Motivated

**Author's Note:**

> My very first fanfic ever (you can probably tell), and probably the most tedious thing I've written so far due to extensive reasearching. Lawyering is complicated. These chapters are EXTREMELY LONG, so read if you have nothing else going on. It's one of those things where I had to choose between posting many chapters or make them super long. (Also can't help that Alan Shore is so bloody long winded sometimes. That was 50% of the reason.)
> 
> There'll be lulls in posting this as I'm writing three other fan fictions on top of this. Bear with me, please.

By now the firm, Crane, Poole and Schmidt, had seen its fair share of odd, frivolous cases. This time it was one against  their own name partner, Denny Crane, and a drug company. Denny had been taking 42 different drugs for various ailments; most of which weren't even life threatening. He suffered from toxic shock and nearly died. Alan was able to bring him back. Now Denny wants to sue the drug company. He's in Alan's office; asking him to go after them.

"Sue the drug company?" Alan asks.

"You heard the doctor. They almost killed me!" Denny exclaims.

"Even so..." Alan admonishes Denny.

He steps away from the doorway. "How 'bout I sue the one that markets 16 of the 42 prescriptions I was taking?" he asks.

"Denny, the question would be: How could they predict you'd eat them like jelly beans?" Alan asks with a deadpan stare.

"You've seen the television ads!" Denny exclaims.

"I have." Alan acknowledges with a nod.

"They list out the side effects like they're reading the telephone book, but the benefits get all the bells and whistles. They nearly killed me. I wanna sue." Denny insists.

Alan gazes in contempt. "Where was this zeal yesterday with the Haywood case?" he asks.

He shrugs. "I skipped taking my Ritalin."

"Ah." Alan utters. It was irony at its finest.

Denny bared a smile. "Let's get 'em."

Alan gradually bears a smile. Little by little it hits him: This was a good way to show the world just how powerful he can be. If not the world then the drug industry.

* * *

"You must be kidding me." Shirley says after Alan tells her the case they're doing. "First big tobacco and now this."

"Shirley, he almost died and it was because of their brainwashing." Alan insists.

"No, he almost died because of his own stupidity." she indignantly says. "I know you and Denny are best friends, and I admire you for defending him... but if you even do so much as attempt to try this case I will fire you." she warns Alan. He scoffs. "I'm serious, Alan." she insists.

Normally he would have a witty or intimidating comeback, but he doesn't respond. He can't respond; it was physically impossible. Alan's entire right side goes numb.

"Alan, did you hear me?" she asks.

His body stiffens and he falls to the floor. After Denny's toxic shock earlier that day, she wasn't going to assume that it was in jest as she did with Denny. "Alan?" she quavers. It's clear he's unresponsive. "I need some help in here!" she screams out.

Her boyfriend, Carl, rushes into her office. "What's going on?" he asks.

"I— I don't know. He just fell!" Shirley explains, her voice shaking profusely.

He kneels down beside Alan. "I think he's having a seizure." he says; loosening Alan's tie and belt. "Call an ambulance!" he snaps at Shirley.

With her hands shaking she dials 9-1-1. "I need an ambulance at 500 Boylston street... 14th floor. One of my colleagues is having a seizure." she quavers.

Even after Carl loosened his tie, he's still struggling to breathe. He snorts and wheezes until he exhales his last bit of air. Everything; the muscle contractions, the wheezing suddenly stops. It's all over in barely inside of a minute. Carl and Shirley stare at Alan's lifeless body for a few seconds before Carl begins CPR.

Shirley is still on the phone with emergency services. "He's not breathing." she says into the phone.

The rest of the employees at Crane, Poole and Schmidt are now gawking at the scene. Even Paul Lewiston, who was almost always irritated by Alan and his reckless actions, was beginning to get emotional.

"Oh, dear God..." Paul utters.

"Where the hell is Denny?" Carl asks.

"I think he's at lunch." Jerry replies.

Carl turns to look at Jerry and snaps, "Well, call him!"

Jerry hustles off to the nearest phone. "Denny... you need to get back to the firm. Now." Jerry says.

Denny was about to have lunch at a restaurant. "I just got here." he gripes.

"Just get back here!" Jerry snips and he hung up. He hurries back to Shirley's office. "He's on his way. I think." he says.

Carl's arms are beginning to get tired from nonstop chest compressions. "Somebody take over." he says. Shirley gives it a go.

Paul says, "I don't think he's—"

Shirley cuts him off. "Don't you dare finish that sentence!" she snaps. "Alan, if you can hear me— You can keep my cheerleading outfit if you want. I don't care. Just come back to us." she whispers in Alan's ear.

Seconds later Alan's heart begins to beat, albeit unsteadily, and his lungs slowly begin to fill with oxygen. Shirley didn't know if it was a giant coincidence or if what she said actually worked. Either way she was relieved: They all are.

"Get him on his side." Carl says.

Carefully she rolls him over. Alan moans slightly. "It's okay now." she softly says as she hushes him.

The paramedics arrive at the scene. They gently lay him on the gurney. Alan's eyes finally open and they fixate on Shirley. Alan tries to say something but he still can't form words.

"I'll go with him." she says to Carl.

"What about Denny?" Carl asks.

"When he gets here you can tell him what happened." she says. He glares at her. He didn't want to be the one to break it to him. "Please." she begs.

He sighs and nods to her request. "Fine."

Shirley takes Alan's hand and squeezes it gently as the EMT checks his vitals. "How are you feeling?" the EMT asks.

Alan takes a bit to respond. "Tired." he replies. It was to be expected. He was about to be wheeled off when Alan grabs Carl's blazer sleeve. "I'll tell him." Alan insists; his speech slurring as a result of the seizure.

The corner of Carl's mouth twitches, making a quick half smile.

"We have to go, Alan." Shirley says.

He let go of Carl's sleeve and he and Shirley left to the hospital.

* * *

Alan has hated hospitals ever since his wife died. The sights and sounds of this room vex him; the monitor beeps, the distant murmurs of medical staff and the moans and screams of sick, dying patients. The illusion that everything is going to be fine in this room is just that: an illusion. He knows better than that. He catches Shirley staring intently at the heart monitor. "You know, if I flatline, you won't have to fire me later." Alan jests.

She snaps back into reality. "I thought you were sleeping." she says. He stares at her for a second. "You remember me saying that?" she asks.

He nods. "Vaguely." he says. "I remember you getting mad at me for... something."

She replies, "Because you and Denny were suing the drug industry."

He chortles, "Oh right!"

She shook her head, staring indignantly at him. She knows that he fully intends on continuing with that suit and she couldn't stop him.

"I don't remember anything after that. What happened?" he asks.

"You had a tonic-clonic seizure." she replies.

He tilts his head to the side. "That's a new one." he says dismissively.

Her eyes narrow in confusion. "You've had something like this before?"

"There was a moment last week— I was home. Alone. I... just spaced out. I felt fine, and I didn't think any more of it..." he says. "They called it a partial seizure, I think."

"Do you know what's causing it?" Shirley asks.

He shakes his head and replies, "I don't want to know." She stares at him indignantly. He explains, "This may sound selfish, if not idiotic... but it'll be all that I'll focus on if I find out. I don't need to feel sorry for myself, which I will inevitably do. I need to be here. For the sake of the firm, for Denny... and for my own sanity— I don't want to know." If he's dying, he'll die without knowing what caused it. As it should be. At least then he will have lived the remainder of his life not in fear or self pity, or even the pity of others, but in joy and in the company of his best friend, Denny; fishing or chasing and pining for women who are too far out of his league. "Can I go?" Alan eagerly asks.

"I think the doctors want to keep you for observation." she says.

"Not gonna happen. I have a case to try." he insists.

She glares at him in annoyance.

"Not _that_ case."

She still holds her gaze.

"Okay, I was lying." he admits as he rips out the IV in his arm.

She lets out an exasperated sigh. "Alan..."

"Just... trust me. I know what I'm doing, Shirley."

* * *

He got the doctor to let him go early. Paying him a thousand dollars was a big incentive. Shirley stupidly trusts him, albeit possibly at a cost. She knows he isn't ready to work after something like this. She calls up Carl to let him know what's going on.

"How's he doing?" Carl asks.

"Truthfully, he's fine. It's almost as if nothing happened." she replies.

"Do we know what's wrong?" he asks.

She sighs and says, "No, and he's decided he doesn't want to know."

Carl mutters, "You're joking."

She explains, "He thinks it'll be all he'll focus on, which I can understand, but never finding out? It would tear me up inside not knowing what's killing me."

He sits down at his desk. "Killing?"

She shuts her eyes tightly; realising she let that one slip out. She responds, "The doctor said he's dying. But, of course, Alan doesn't want to know what from, so—"

He interrupts, "So ask them yourself."

"How would you feel if I knew you were dying before you knew?"

"You've got a decent point, I guess. So, what do we tell Denny?"

She pauses to think about it for a moment. "Let's just let Alan deal with it. You did promise him that."

Denny arrives at the firm well after Alan was rushed to the hospital. While Alan will still be there for a few more hours, Shirley left, but not by decision. Alan made her leave.

Denny walks into Carl's office. "What happened here?" he asks. "I just passed Shirley's office. It's a mess!"

Carl debates on whether or not he should tell him. He promised Alan that he wouldn't. "I can't say much about it." Carl admits.

"Why not?" he asks.

Shirley starts heading over to Carl's office and sees the two of them talking. "Oh, great." she mutters. She was sure that Carl admitted to everything. She approaches them.

"Shirley, maybe you can tell me what the hell is going on." Denny says.

"All I can say is that you should wait. This is something that you shouldn't hear from a third party." Shirley responds.

"And _who_ should I be waiting for?"

She looks to Carl for assurance that it's okay to tell him. Maybe not in great detail.

Carl nods. "Tell him."

She draws in a deep breath. "Alan is in the hospital." she confesses. Denny freezes up. "He's okay, and he will be released by this afternoon." she adds.

All sorts of thoughts rattle around in Denny's head. Most of them are bad. "I... gotta go... do something." he says to them, making an excuse to leave.

* * *

Twelve 'O clock came and went, and Alan never showed up to work. Denny begins to worry immensely. He goes to the firm's break room where Shirley is. "You said he'd be here!" Denny snaps.

She closes the fridge and turns around. "Hello Denny." she jokes.

"Don't be flippant. Where is he?" he asks.

She checks the clock on the wall. "It's only one o' clock." she says.

"Exactly! Where is he?"

She grabs a banana from the fruit bowl. "Don't you have something to do? Oh, right. Your case against the drug companies." she sarcastically says.

"Company. Just the one. But I'm waiting for Alan." he explains. "You said he'd be here."

"Well, you know how doctors hold patients hostage before they're discharged." she says while she adds sugar to her tea.

"If someone here has discharge, I had nothing to do with it." Alan jests.

Denny gasps and Shirley smiles upon seeing him. "Alan!" Denny exclaims as he tackle hugs him; nearly knocking him down.

Alan mouths, "What is—?" to Shirley.

She just shrugs her shoulders. She pats Denny on the back. "All right, Denny. You can let go now." she says. He doesn't want to.

"Denny, I got us a meeting. I would like to get us there on time." Alan insists. They notice Carl is now in the room.

"What?" Denny asks.

"You know, one of these days I'm going to learn to not enter any rooms that you two inhabit." Carl says.

Their long, awkward hug ends there.

Carl says to Shirley, "Your client wants to speak with you."

She asks, "Where is he?"

"In your office."

As she walks out of the break room she looks at Alan, hoping that he's all right.

"Have fun!" Denny shouts out to her as she exits.

Then there were three. They all stare at one another.

"So... how are you?" Alan asks Carl.

After a short moment of staring at Alan, he eventually walks away without saying a word.

"What's his problem?" Denny asks Alan.

He shrugs and replies, "Who knows." He genuinely wanted to know how he was.

Denny yells, "Rude!"

Alan motions to the door. "You ready?"

Denny cracks his neck. "Lock and load." he booms.

* * *

Alan and Denny meet the lawyers who represent the drug company they're suing. They sit across the table from four, obviously well heeled attorneys. The only one talking and making threats is Wade Mathis. Alan was okay with it. It just means there's more of a reason to burry them.

"Give me one good reason why we shouldn't countersue for abuse of process, filing a frivolous lawsuit, and, possibly, extortion." Wade says.

Alan is almost speechless. "Well, my impression of the pharmaceutical industry is that it's always so nice." he jests.

Wade and the other attorneys stare at him. "He had a scare, but he's fine now. What are the damages?"

"For starters, emotional distress." Alan responds.

Another attorney, Grant Kennard, asks, "How did we cause it? What is it that you're claiming we did?"

Alan replies, "What you did? You brainwashed my client. The massive marketing strategy employed by your trade association caused him to gulp down..." He looks to Denny for a confirmation of the number. "42 different drugs on a semi daily basis."

"And it would be foreseeable in your mind that he'd do this?" Grant asks.

"Certainly foreseeable to you. You market to senior citizens because your research shows they're easy targets; susceptible to deceptive advertising—"

Wade cuts him off. "I'm sorry. You did go to law school, right?"

"Actually, I bought my degree on the internet." None of them, even Denny, can tell if he is joking again or not. "What's your point?" Alan asks.

"My point is: What happened to him was a product of his own stupidity. That he's able to enlist his firm and, perhaps, an equally intellectually-challenged attorney to type a cause of action on a complaint does not give him one." Wade argues.

"I bet you didn't play well with others as a child, did you?" Alan retorts.

"We're done here." Wade says as he and the others stand up to leave. "Sit your arrogant ass down, Mr. Mathis. Better you hear what I have to say now. It'll be considerably cheaper than in court."

"You actually think you're going to intimidate us? Do you have the slightest sense of how powerful we are?"

"I have a very acute sense. Last week I took on the tobacco industry. Imagine my surprise to discover you two are so much alike. The only difference I can see is that while the FDA is hostile to cigarettes, you they roll over for."

Wade sits back down. "Look–"

Alan interrupts him, "I know _exactly_ how big and... powerful you are, Mr. Mathis. It might do you some good to check me out: I'm the guy who just nicked big tobacco for two hundred million dollars." Wade and the other lawyers grow slightly nervous. "Now I just sit in my office all day, asking myself who's next. Well, guess what? It's you." he threatens. He and Wade have a sort of stare down. Alan tilts his head; boring his eyes into him. "It's you." he reiterates.

Wade has no intent of letting this go to trial, but if it does, he's up for the challenge. If nothing more than to prove Alan wrong. He and the other attorneys get up to leave. Wade shakes his head in disbelief that two lawyers such as them work at such a prestigious firm.

Alan turns to Denny and says, "He's fun." He smirks.

It's game on now. They leave to their respective offices. Alan does some research while Denny does whatever he does in between meeting with plaintiffs and the trial against them.

* * *

Shirley comes into Alan's office to check in on him. "How are we doing?" she asks.

His phone rings. Alan motions her to come in while he answers it.

A man's voice says, _"Alan. It's Dr. Wessmer."_ Suddenly he feels nervous. _"I won't beat around the bush: It's not good."_

"Should I go?" Shirley whispers. Alan doesn't answer her.

_"Your scan showed a oligodendroglioma, a type of tumour, in your temporal lobe."_

The name of it alone is enough to make Alan's head hurt: More than it already is.

He continues, _"We'll have to run more tests to determine your treatment options, but as of right now... it's not looking good."_

In that moment time slows down to a crawl. Alan drops the cup of coffee he had in his hand.

"What's wrong?" Shirley asks.

He still clutches the phone with trembling hands. All the symptoms he felt made sense now. Still, knowing what caused them doesn't make it any easier. In fact he feels worse now that he knows. To make matters worse, Shirley is in the room, which means he has to tell her the horrible news. For most people this wouldn't be an issue, but for Alan to admit that something has inevitably, and for all intents and purposes, beat him, he would feel like a failure.

It's been a few seconds since Alan last said anything. Shirley is beginning to get worried. By now Alan thought his doctor would've hung up on him but he didn't.

 _"I know this is difficult for you to hear. Especially over the phone."_ Wessmer states.

After having his mouth slightly open from shock he finally closes it. "Um..." he utters. He closes his eyes and draws in a deep breath.

_"It's fine if you don't know what to say. It's understandable. I can mail some pamphlets that go into more detail about it."_

"Yeah, that'd be great... thank you." Alan quavers.

_"I'd also like to get an MRI done as soon as possible."_

Gulping down the overwhelming emotions he's feeling, he responds, "Okay. I can be there later today." He then hangs up the phone, and he stares at Shirley with fear in his eyes.

"Alan, what's wrong?" she asks.

He tries to get the words out but he's incredibly overwhelmed. His bottom lip quivers, and he begins sobbing. Shirley rushes over to him and holds him. He trembles in her arms as he cries. She knows that something terrible has happened. He hardly ever cries. At least not in front of others. "I don't want to die." he sobs.

She shushes him and reassures, "You're not going to."

After a long time of crying, he finally calms down long enough to tell her the news. He's reeling; sitting on the sofa in his office and spacing out.

"You seem a little better now." Shirley says.

"I merely went from having a mental breakdown to disassociation. I'm still quite anxious." he tells her. He looks at her and asks, "Are _you_ all right?"

She wonders why he's concerned over her rather than himself at the moment. "No..." she says.

"It's quite possible I've had this coming. All these years of dirty work... Maybe karma finally caught up." he muses.

Shirley shakes her head in disagreement. "You don't deserve this."

He chuckles slightly. "It's funny: I spent so much time trying to somehow stave off Denny's possible demise, I didn't—" He stops to keep from crying again.

"What are you going to tell him?" she asks. He almost forgot all about telling him. "You are going to tell him, right?"

He nods. "I guess I'll have to." he sighs.

She places her hand on Alan's thigh. "I'm sorry for threatening to fire you." she says.

"You're not sorry." he chortles. "But regardless, thank you for apologising." He lets out a harsh breath. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some research to do." he states. Anything to keep his mind preoccupied. He can't worry about this right now.

"Should I get Denny?" she asks.

"No. I'll... deal with it later."

* * *

For the last half an hour, all he's done so far is look up information on his type of tumour. It makes him feel a little better knowing that others have survived this very condition, but it doesn't help by much. The mere mention of chemotherapy and radiation therapy turns his stomach. Tears fall from his eyes. He wonders if his word salad was part of this. He then looks at other treatment options; anything but surgery, chemo and radiation. He wants to avoid those as long as he possibly can. Eventually he shuts his laptop. There's only so many images of scars, and gory sights of patients undergoing surgery he can handle before he becomes even more ill.

Alan's phone rings; causing him to jump in his chair. As he rolls his eyes at his own response, he lets out a sigh. He picks up the phone. "Alan Shore." he states.

"Alan. It's Wade Mathis." Alan barely has any time to respond before he goes on. "I'll make this quick, since you've wasted enough time: We're filing for a dismissal." he tells him.

Alan smirks. "I thought you might." he says. He hangs up on Wade, and heads to Denny's office. He stands in the doorway to Denny's office.

"Alan." he gleefully says.

Alan gives him a fake smile. It was apparent that he had been crying.

"You okay? What's up?" Denny asks.

The truth would be too much right now, and it wouldn't do any good to hear it. Alan clears his throat. "Mathis called..." he intones.

Denny stands up. "We going to court?"

"They filed a motion to dismiss."

Denny asks, "Can we beat it?"

"It's a pretty powerful industry, Denny."

Denny begins walking away from his desk. "Do I need to give you my big pep talk again?"

He shakes his head. "No. They almost killed you. You can consider me... sufficiently motivated." he replies; smiling slightly.

Denny looks like he may cry tears of joy. He walks towards Alan; sidestepping his desk.

Alan gripes, "Oh, Denny, please don't—" Denny enfolds him in his arms. "Hug me." Alan resumes. It's a long, long hug. Eventually Alan's grimace turns into a legitimate smile. He lightly pats Denny on the back.

* * *

If anyone were to ask Alan Shore and Denny Crane six years ago if either of them thought they'd ever be best friends, they'd probably laugh. Alan thought he was crazy, which is true; Denny, who mostly never gave a shit about what anyone thought of him, just flat out didn't like him much.

But one night changed how they both felt for one another: Alan approached Denny in his office. He joked and asked Denny, "What the hell are you doing in my office?"

Denny glanced up from his work and observed the room; pondering if he was, in fact, in the wrong office.

"Had you again, didn't I?" Alan asked.

"I've asked you not to make fun of my mental health. As I _recall_... I meant it." Denny said.

"If I offended you before, I apologise."

"You know, you don't fool me." Denny made known as he took a sip of his drink. Alan smiled; wondering where this is headed. "My success as a trial attorney comes from my ability to read people. I read you." he added.

Alan smirked as if he were begging for him to take his best shot.

"I know your little secret, soldier." he admitted.

That made Alan more than a little anxious. There were lots of secrets, both enormous and minuscule, that he had buried deep within him. "You do?" he asked.

Denny nodded. "You're in awe of me." he said, expecting he'd say otherwise.

Alan had a look of confusion, yet he was thankful that's all he meant. "Well, now that the secret is out..." he began. Denny waited for him to finish. "Let me tell you something, Denny Crane. Having watched you at the courthouse yesterday... I just want you to know: I am in awe." he said.

Denny couldn't believe he meant it, but Alan's face - his eyes - told he wasn't speaking falsehoods.

"You're Denny Crane." he said, holding his hands out towards Denny. "And that's... something."

In that moment Denny started to feel things he hadn't felt in years. Something he thought he'd never feel again: Truly cared about. Not only that, but the affirmation that he can strike awe and intimidate anyone was something he doesn't get from people anymore. He looked down at his desk to hide his reaction.

As Denny looked up to see Alan still beaming, he exhaled sharply. "You've taken up a minute of my time. To whom do I send the bill?" he asked, hiding his emotions.

Alan smiled fondly and said, "You can send the bill to me."

Alan exited the room, leaving Denny to both reconsider his feelings toward Alan and wonder who is real friends were.

From that moment on, despite their differences, they have been best friends. If he didn't have Alan, he wouldn't even be here. While he never admired anyone who took their own lives, it didn't stop him from considering it himself. People either sympathised or were derisive toward him. Even now it drives him nuts, and some days he feels like a burden. Alan is the only one who can stop those terrible thoughts. Everyday he's thankful to have a friend like him. He's his only friend; Carl is more of a tolerance, Shirley would be a friend if it weren't painful to be around her, Jerry he barely knows and the same goes for Katie.

* * *

Denny hasn't spoken for a while now, and Alan was growing worried. He's completely out of reality. "Denny, are you okay?"

Denny comes back into it. He had forgotten they're both in his office, going over strategy, should this eventually go against a jury. A few seconds later he's fully aware of what's going on."Did you ever think that we'd make it this far? As friends, I mean." Denny asks.

"Honestly?" Alan asks.

"Please." he says.

Alan shakes his head and replies, "No... but I'm glad that we are."

Denny slightly grins. He walks away from his desk and sits down next to Alan. "I don't want to go through with this case." he says. Alan tries to respond but Denny explains, "We can go before judge Peyton. You can do what you do best: Kick their asses and win. Beyond that I don't want to make it a big deal."

Alan's mouth is slightly agape; his eyes are narrow. "Are you sure?"

"This will be drawn out. I don't want to spend the rest of my time, what little time I have left, trying a frivolous case. I'd much rather spend it with the people I love. 'People' being you."

Alan stares into Denny's eyes; figuring out his motives for not continuing on. "I do too, actually."

Denny pats Alan on the thigh. "Shall we?" he asks. Denny starts to leave when Alan stops him.

"Wait."

Denny wheels around.

"Hug?"

"You sure this time?" Denny asks.

Alan smiles and says, "Come here."

They hug and gently pat each other on the back.

"You've put on a few pounds." Denny observes.

Alan's smile quickly washed away. "See, this is why we don't hug much." He then ends their embrace.

"What?" Denny asks.

"Just—" Alan motions to the door.

"Somebody's PMSing." Denny mutters on the way out.

* * *

Shirley is in the lobby chatting with Katie. She sees Alan and Denny heading for the elevators. "Where do you think you two are going?" she growls. Katie slowly and quietly slips away before things get ugly.

"We're either going out for ice cream, to commit a heinous crime or defy you... We'll decide in the car." he says with a deadpan stare.

"I'm guessing it's the latter." Shirley says.

"Now that would be the most _terrible, horrible, incredibly foolish idea_..." he says to Shirley. "Let's do it and see what happens, shall we?" Alan says to Denny, then gives Shirley a smirk.

"Maybe we can do all three." Denny jests.

"Oh, there's an idea." Alan chortles.

"Alan, I swear to God—" she begins.

"Shirley, you and I both know that I've been threatened with termination and disbarment _countless_ times. Lo and behold: I'm still here. You might want to change it up. It's becoming predictable and I'm getting bored." he intimidatingly says, taunting and testing her.

"You are _deeply_ troubled." she remarks.

"I prefer the term creative." he retorts. He turns to leave.

"We can take you along for ice cream when we get back." Denny says to her. "Maybe... I'll drizzle some hot fudge on your body." he adds as he looks Shirley up and down.

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, God." she mutters.

Alan shouts out to Denny, "Come along, Cinderella! The ball is waiting!"

Denny shouts back, "I'm coming!" He then says to Shirley, "Don't wait up."

She watches them as they leave, glaring furiously.

* * *

She's now in Lewiston's office. "He's deliberately doing this to piss me off, Paul." Shirley says.

"I see it's working." Paul jests.

"It's not funny." she admonishes. "Ever since the case against the tobacco industry he's—"  
She stops pacing the floor. "He's let the power go to his head: Plain and simple."

"Shirley... this case is most likely serving as a distraction. You saw what he went through." he says.

"I don't care! The man is psychotic, and if he brings down this firm—" she stresses.

"He will not bring down the firm."

"You're damn right he won't!" she snaps.

They fall silent for a short time.

"If you thought he was going to slow down or change because of a seizure— This is Alan Shore we're talking about, Shirley. He does not slow down for anyone or anything." he says. "Are you sure this isn't about you being worried about him?"

She sighs. "I just don't want to see him crash and burn. If he keeps this up, he will, possibly bringing this firm down along with him." she says.

He shrugs; he could see her point. "Clearly the stern warnings mean nothing anymore. What do you propose we do?"

She has no plan yet but she'll think of something. "Let me handle this." she replies. In the meantime she lets him have his distraction, defending his best friend.

* * *

Wade, Grant, Alan and Denny all stand before Judge Victoria Peyton. The battle is mostly between Alan and Wade, however, with their constant back and forth arguments. It was fine with Denny. Even if he's long winded, Alan, more often than not, wins.

Wade states, "Your Honour, he's failed to state a claim even suggesting liability. How is it foreseeable to us that he would gobble multiple medications, buying them off the internet, without consulting a doctor first?"

Alan argues, "It's not only _foreseeable_ , it's exactly what you count on! We don't even know the potential dangers of these drugs, because the pharmaceutical industry systematically conceals them. They've been caught buying clinical trials, bribing doctors, distorting science. Many of the so called 'peer reviewed' articles we see in medical journals are actually ghost written by the drug companies themselves, and doctors take pay offs and let their names appear as the authors."

"You have no evidence that any of that happened here." Wade says.

Alan exclaims, "Because you hide it!"

"I should sue you right now. You don't get a pass just because—"

He interrupts Wade again, "You want to sue me? Please do. Because truth is a complete defence, and I'm not the only one saying this." He turns to the judge. "They blitz the public with commercials, convincing people that they're afflicted with these ridiculous diseases, and it's especially effective with senior citizens." He then looks to Denny. "My client was popping pills like candy. He almost died!" he shouts.

Wade says to Victoria, "He's out of control."

Alan snaps, "You're industry is out of control!"

Victoria insists, "Mr. Shore, you need to settle down."

Which he does for all of three seconds. "Your Honour, the FDA refuses to go after these people, so let it be me. They very nearly killed a man I dearly love: Let it be me. But let me get started, because they stall. Of the twenty-seven thousand to fifty thousand Vioxx deaths, only eighteen cases have reached juries so far. Most of the plaintiffs will be dead before they're compensated in any way. My client is seventy-five. So, please, let me get started on discovery, since clearly, I'll need every second."

She says, "All right. I will let this case stand."

Wade is stunned. "What?! Are you crazy?"

Alan jokes, "Perhaps you have a pill she could take."

"You're letting him go forward with no proximate cause? That's preposterous!" he exclaims.

"What would be preposterous is if I would extend the benefit of the doubt to your industry. Do I look like an idiot?" she asks.

Alan jests, "They've got a pill for that as well."

Wade snaps, "Would you shut up?"

She chides, "I've made my ruling. We're adjourned."

Alan gathers his things while Denny still stays seated.

"You've bitten off more than you can swallow, my friend." Wade threatens.

"Oh, I don't swallow. I just chew up and spit out." he retorts. Denny looks at him, puzzled.

"We'll see." he says.

"Zing! I can see you're good at this." Alan sarcastically says as he locks up his briefcase.

Wade leaves, and Denny stands up from being seated. Alan looks at his watch. It was almost five O'clock. "Denny, I have to go somewhere. Can I trust you to behave yourself?" he asks.

Denny shrugs and replies, "You know me."

Alan cocks his head slightly to the side. "So, that's a no." he mutters.

As they're leaving the courtroom, Denny asks, "Where are you going?"

He chortles, "That's hardly any of your business."

Denny grabs him by the hand, stopping him from walking any further. "I'm your flamingo!" he exclaims. The fact that he's still holding his hand is out of the ordinary for Denny.

Alan bites his lower lip; breathing through his mouth. "We'll talk about this at length later on, but I really have to go now." he says.

Denny asks, "You'll be back later, though, right?"

He smiles and replies, "Definitely."

Just as Alan was going back to the firm to grab a few things, he saw his nemesis of sorts: Melvin Palmer. During Alan's emergency and his case, Melvin had a case against Jerry and Katie. Alan had no clue that he was here.

"Al! Buddy!" he exclaims.

Just hearing his voice adds even more stress. Alan repeatedly pushes the elevator button, as if it'll go faster.

Melvin says, "I was just leaving."

Alan retorts, "Though not soon enough."

He laughs. "You're a hoot, that's what you are." he chortles as he smacks Alan's back. "I had a trial against Espenson and the English gal." he says, making small talk.

"Katie." Alan corrects him.

"She's a fireball, that's what she is."

Alan cringes on the inside. " _What is taking the elevator so long?_ " Alan asks to himself. He would take the stairs if he knew it wouldn't kill him. They're fourteen floors up, after all. Finally the elevator shows up. Alan sighs, and goes in.

"I have a feeling I'll be back." Melvin says with a wink.

As if Alan wasn't feeling queasy enough. After the elevator doors shut he rolls his eyes and groans.

It was bad enough that Alan needs an MRI, he has to go through it alone - by no one else's fault but his own. He had his chance to ask Denny to accompany him, or even Shirley, but in the end he never asked anyone. The knocking sound of the machine is unnerving and daunting. It suddenly becomes clear to him that it isn't a dream and this is all real. He closes his eyes and imagines that the tumour just disappears into thin air. It isn't enough. It still exists, and it's killing him: Figuratively and literally.

Thirty minutes later and it's finished. He still doesn't want to see it. Wessmer decides to send it in the mail. Alan is then given a multitude of prescriptions; an anticonvulsant, antiemetic and because there's significant cranial oedema, the doctor gives him steroids. A whole arsenal of weapons at his disposal, though it would only mask the real problem - but if it will make him feel better, he'll take it.

* * *

Shirley had asked Carl for some advice. They sit in his office. "I know he pissed you off, but threatening to fire him?" Carl asks.

She responds, "I'll admit, I might have been hasty, but... I met up with Wade Mathis earlier. Turns out he represents the pharmaceutical company they're suing. He said Alan is dragging us through sewers: 'Putting us in peril' as he called it."

He asks, "You don't believe that, do you?"

She shrugs her shoulders. "I really don't know any more, Carl. I mean look at what he put Young, Frutt and Berlutti through. _And_ Caruthers and Abbott."

"Shirley, this is nothing. True, in the past he's been accused of embezzlement, concealing evidence, he even purposely botched a trial just because he didn't like the client. If we had an entire firm of Alan Shores, we'd definitely sink like a brick. Having just one doesn't hurt us. Plus, you adore him."

She bears a hesitant smile and chuckles. "He definitely is something..." She sighs. "All right, I won't fire him. For now."

Carl smiles at her decision. "Good."

"You've come a long way, haven't you?" she asks.

Before he used to be so stuck up, and loathed being here. He admits, "Well, I've learned that lawyers here, while eccentric, are... pretty good people. Pretty good friends, as well."

She smiles. "I'm glad you stayed all this time."

"So am I." He gives her a peck on her cheek. "We should get going if we want to make those reservations."

She and Carl both leave his office. They run into Alan, who is staggering around slightly.

"Alan..." Shirley chortles.

"Hello!" Alan exclaims.

Carl asks, "You all right? You seem a little out of sorts."

"They gave me some anxiety medication earlier. It's making me a little woozy."

She asks, "Shouldn't you be home, then?"

"My lover awaits me!" He then snorts. The idea that Denny is his "lover" is funny to him. "Where are you off to?"

Carl answers, "We're heading out to dinner."

Food sounds appealing to him now. His eyes drift away from Shirley and Carl. "I don't think I've eaten in maybe two days." he muses. He shrugs and starts walking away.

"Alan, are you going to be okay?" Shirley asks.

He breathes in deep. "No." he utters. "I'm dying. I don't think I can ever be okay."

She nods in response.

"You're harshing my vibe, Shirley. I hope you know that." he jests.

Carl chuckles.

"Sorry." she says.

Carl assures him, "Just know that we're here for you. Whatever you need."

As they walk past him, Shirley gives him a light peck on the cheek. "You two behave." she exhorts.

After they get onto the elevator, Alan asks, "You do realise this is me and Denny you're talking about, right?"

She chuckles and waves goodbye to him. Now that she sees he is back to his old self again, maybe he'll be okay. She hopes.

"You okay?" Carl asks. He wipes a couple of tears from her face. He embraces her tightly as she softly cries.

* * *

Alan makes it back in time to be on the balcony with Denny, as per usual. Every night they'd go out there, have a drink and smoke cigars, talking about the day's events and their thoughts. Neither one of them would trade those nights for anything.

Denny waits for him outside, scotch in hand. Alan joins him. "How'd it go?" Denny asks with his cigar in his mouth, muffling his voice.

He shrugs and says, "About well as it could have gone." Alan sips his drink.

Denny doesn't want to pry more out of him. If he wants to tell him, he will. "First big tobacco, now this. What's next?" Denny muses.

"Well, why not go out swinging, right?" he asks.

Denny wonders, "Who says we're going out?"

"I've heard somewhere you should live every year like it's your last." He asks, "Do you ever think about the end?"

"I feel somehow I'll just keep going on even after it's over. Like Hillary Clinton."

Alan chuckles slightly. "Reincarnation: Do you really believe in that?"

Denny sets his drink down on the table. "What's the alternative? Nothingness? I can't believe that."

"What do you think you'll be in your next life?"

"I hope a beautiful woman. I could touch myself."

Alan points out, "I might want to touch you."

Denny begins puffing on his cigar. "You've already had your kiss. How was it, anyway?"

With a deadpan look, Alan jests, "I've had better."

Denny stares into his almost empty glass; becoming slightly emotional. "I must say, I feel... great comfort in the way you're there for me. When the day does come, at least I won't be alone."

"You won't be alone." Alan echoes.

They exchange hesitant smiles. Neither of them want to go on talking about death, so Denny again brings up the subject of Alan saving his life. "I can't believe you actually got to suck face with me."

"And I brought you back to life." Alan adds.

"Like Snow White." While Denny chuckles, Alan lets out a good laugh. "Of all the women I've loved, been loved by, who would have thought that Alan Shore would be my Prince Charming?"

Alan raises his glass. "Let no man tear asunder."

"Till death do us part." Denny adds as he then raises his glass for a toast.

Alan intones, "Amen."

They sit there a bit longer before calling it a night and headed home.

* * *

Late at night, Alan sits alone at his place, drinking and wallowing in self pity just as he knew he would. Gradually becoming more and more angry with himself for feeling this way, he throws an empty glass at the wall. It shatters and pieces of glass fly throughout the living room. He doesn't like seeing himself in this light. He was fine until he got home. He has to get out of this funk. He sets off to the one place he can find some semblance of normality.

He drives from his place in the city to a house in Newton. Walking up to the door was daunting for some strange reason. He had been to this place many times before. He hesitates to knock on the door. When he finally does, Denny answers.

He stands before him in his pyjamas and wearing dog slippers. "What are you doing here?" Denny wonders.

Alan contemplates coming out with it right then and there.

"Did we have a sleep over scheduled and I forgot?" he asks.

Alan smiles slightly. His emotions begin to show through his eyes. Tears form behind his lower eyelids. "I didn't want be alone." he quavers.

Denny starts to worry about him. He nods and motions Alan to come in.

They sit in the foyer. A fire burns bright, warming the entire room.

"You okay?" Denny asks.

Alan sighs and stares up at the ceiling. "I'm fine."

"Shirley told me you had a medical thing..."

Alan diverts his gaze from the ceiling over to Denny; full of anxiety. His stomach twists and turns inside. He wonders what else Shirley mentioned to him. "I don't want to talk about it." Alan says.

Denny worries, "I just—"

Alan snaps, "Denny, if you know what's good for you, you will drop it."

Denny shrugs and mutters, "You don't have to be so huffy about it."

Alan stares into his drink and softly admits, "I had a day." There's a burning sensation in his stomach, no doubt it's from stress. Either that or he's hungry; he doesn't remember the last time he ate anything. He can't keep living like this, and he needs a permanent distraction. "Here's a thought..."

Denny gives him his " _I'm listening_ " look.

"How would you feel about moving in with me?" he asks.

Denny nearly spits out his drink. He clears his throat to stop from gagging and choking on fluid.

"Too soon?" Alan jokes. "Think of it this way: It'll be like a permanent sleepover. I mean, we visit each other so much anyway. We may as well live together."

"Would I get my own bed?" Denny asks.

"Of course."

"Pizza night?"

Alan tilts his head. "Why not."

Denny still needs convincing. "What if I see you naked?"

Alan rolls his eyes. "You know what? Forget I said anything."

"Oh, don't be that way." Denny chides.

"All right, we'll think of some sort of code word."

"Where would my stuff go?" Denny gripes.

He dons his "are you being serious?" stare that he so often has around Denny. "What stuff? You have a doll that looks like Shirley Schmidt, probably some records—"

Denny cuts him off, "I have more than that."

Alan asks, "Why are we even arguing about it?"

"I'm just not sure if it's a good idea, that's all." What he isn't telling Alan is that he refuses to leave Casa De Crane. He has lived here for years, and he has no plans of moving into a tiny apartment room, where Alan lives. It would be like downsizing. "Alan, I appreciate the gesture, but if you're doing this out of pity, you can just leave right now."

"Denny, you know that's not why I asked." Alan assures him.

"Why _did_ you ask?" Denny wonders.

He doesn't answer him. He doesn't want to admit that something is wrong, and it was just his way of asking for help without actually asking for it. Like Denny, he too can be proud and stubborn at times.

"I'll think about it." Denny appeases Alan.

"That's all I want."

Silence falls for a few seconds. Denny then asks, "Do you… want to stay over?"

It's too late to go home now, and he didn't want to be alone. "May I?"

He nods. "Of course. You can... sleep in bed with me, if you want."

"You've gotten rather comfortable with that."

He shrugs his shoulders and tells him, "You're cuddly."

They grin at each other, and went to bed. As time passes they become more and more closer, spooning tightly. Tighter than they did in that twin bed in Nimmo Bay. For once Alan slept like a baby.


	2. Guns and Cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot from Dances with Wolves along with added material, completely skipping Alan's custody trial with his ex-therapist. I had to remove some dialogue so it wouldn't be too long.

A week after Denny's, and Alan's, incident, Jerry asked Denny out for drinks to discuss a rather delicate matter. Alan all but begged him not to mention what happened to him last week, and Jerry kept to his word: He never said anything about it. Still, Denny didn't know why he was having drinks with Jerry, of all people. He thought he was an oddball that had no business being a partner at his firm, as well as resented him for becoming close with Alan. He never wanted to share what's his. That includes his firm, Shirley and, evidently, Alan: All three of which he doesn't completely own.

"You mind telling me what we're doing here?" he asks Jerry.

"Well, I come up for partner this fall, Mr. Crane. And when I do, I expect your full support." he exhorts.

Denny asks, "Why would I want a weird guy like you for a partner?"

"Because I've earned it."

As much as he hates to admit it, and probably never will out loud, Jerry is right. He has done amazing work at the firm; he deserves to be partner. Jerry was still waiting for a response from Denny.

"We should get back." Denny says.

It wasn't the response Jerry was hoping for. Denny leaves a handful of dollar bills on the bar counter as a tip, and they both leave to the parking structure.

Their conversation continues on the way to the car.

"Here's what I want to know: Do you really want it?" Denny asks.

"Yes, I do." Jerry affirms, as he twiddles his wooden cigarette; it helps him to feel confident.

"Being a partner in a law firm isn't all it's cracked up to be." he says.

Then an African American man comes out from the shadows. "But the money is good, right?" he asks.

Both Jerry and Denny stand frozen. "And you are?" Denny asks.

"I'm part of the neighbourhood Crime Watch." The man pulls out a gun and continues, "The way it works is I commit the crime and you watch." Denny tries to defuse the situation, but The Man aims his gun at him. "Watch and wallet. Now." he demands.

Jerry hurries to take his watch off while Denny refuses to do the same. "Here's my problem: You're black." Denny blurts out.

Jerry gasps, "Mr. Crane!"

"How about I just blow your brains out right now?" The Man asks.

"That doesn't work for me." Denny states and turns to Jerry. "Does it work for you?"

"Denny, please." he begs.

The Man cocks his gun. Jerry didn't want to be shot to death. Honestly, neither did Denny.

"All right, fine." he softly says. He hands The Man his watch and wallet. While he's distracted, Denny pulls out a gun and shoots him in one kneecap and of his both feet.

The Man screams in agony, as blood drained out from the wounds. Jerry can't fathom what just happened.

"Thank God for guns, eh Jerry? Only in America: Sweet land of Liberty Valence." Denny chortles.

Jerry pulls out his cell phone and calls for help.

* * *

Meanwhile Alan is back at the firm, waiting for Denny on his balcony. He promised he'd be back in time. Alan checks his watch; it's been almost two hours. He stands up to stretch out his legs. Shirley walks by Denny's office and sees Alan outside in the chilly October weather, staring down at the ground. She goes outside to join him briefly.

"You're still here." she says.

He turns around. "I was waiting for Denny but it looks like he won't be showing up tonight." The only other time he never showed was when he was with Beverly, whom he had been married to for roughly three hours before getting caught cheating with a waitress at their wedding. Otherwise they never missed a night on the balcony.

"Did you call him?"

He nods and replies, "Twice. He never picked up."

"I'm sure he'll show." she assures him.

"In the meantime I'm going to be out here alone." he mutters. He looks at her, slightly pouting. He hopes she'll join him.

"I was just about to leave, Alan." she says.

He checks the time again; barely a minute has past since the last time he looked. He sighs. "Yeah, I think I will too." He puts out his cigar and chugs the last finger of scotch in his glass. "May I walk you out?" he asks her.

She smiles. "Sure." she replies.

After leaving the empty glass in Denny's office, he and Shirley leave the building for the night.

* * *

It's the next morning, and Alan still hasn't heard from Denny. He's greatly concerned. He looks everywhere they frequented but no sign of him. He gives up and goes to work where he catches up with Shirley. Denny is already there and has been there the whole time he was looking. He got there before anyone else did for once.

Shirley assures him, "I am sure he's fine, Alan. You have bigger things to worry about."

He replies, " _Nothing_ is bigger than Denny, we can both agree on that."

While they go to Alan's office, they see Denny milling about in his own office. Alan couldn't help but feel hurt that he didn't so much as call him. They waltz in to confront him.

"I have been calling and looking all over for you! Where the hell have you been?!" Alan snaps.

Denny chides, "Don't yell at me."

Shirley calmly asks, "Just tell us: Where were you?"

"Police station."

"What'd you do now?" Alan asks, indignantly.

"I shot a man three times."

Both Alan and Shirley gasp, "What?"

"Well, he was going to mug me and Jerry! I had to do something! Anyway, the guy is fine. Unfortunately."

Shirley asks, "Are you all right?"

"Of course I am! Why wouldn't I be? It was only an _attempted_ mugging."

Alan asks, "And you absolutely had to shoot him?"

Denny exclaims, "I shoot people all the time!"

"You had to shoot him three times?"

Denny is increasingly getting annoyed. "If you say so..."

"In both feet?"

He gives Alan a stare of contempt.

Two police officers, the same ones who questioned him last night, come into his office.

"I told you everything last night." Denny tells them.

"We haven't been sent here to get your statement, Mr. Crane." Officer Stone says.

"Then what?" He reaches for a pen. "Autograph?"

"I'm afraid we're here to arrest you."

"Arrest me?!"

Shirley asks, "What's going on?"

"Look, if it were up to me—"

"What are the charges?" Alan interjects.

"Possession of a concealed weapon."

Denny mutters, "Oh please."

Shirley exclaims, "You can't be serious! This man was mugged!"

Officer Stone replies, "I realise that. I also realise that his having a guy helped us catch a guy we've been looking for, but the law is the law and Mr. Crane broke it." He looks to the second officer and motions him forward to handcuff Denny. "Please put your hands behind your back."

"This is unbelievable." Denny grumbles.

Alan doesn't say or do anything to stop them; he couldn't do anything, really.

"I know my rights, by the way. And let me tell you, I'm never silent. Everything about me makes noise." As he turns to assume the position, he farts.

Shirley rolls her eyes. "On second thought, you can keep him."

The other officer pulls out gun, after gun, after gun. It seems like it didn't end.

"I want those back when we're done." Denny says.

* * *

An hour later Shirley calls Alan to see her. Carl is with them.

"The arraignment is at ten-thirty." she tells Alan.

"I'm on my way."

He's already halfway out the door when Shirley says, "He doesn't want you, Alan."

He stops and turns around. "Excuse me?"

"He thinks you're too... anti-gun."

"Oh..." he utters, showing undisguised hurt. "Did he say who he did want?"

"Angelina Jolie."

Carl scoffs. "God."

"But that's not going to happen." She looks to Carl. "Carl, could you go?"

"Me? I'm not _pro gun._ "

"Please?"

He sighs. "Fine. But you owe me for this."

She smirks a little bit.

"Then what am I going to do?" Alan asks her.

She says, "I'm sure you'll think of something."

He sits down in one of the chairs in front of her desk.

"I'm also sure one of them isn't camping out in my office."

He sighs as he reluctantly gets up to leave.

Shirley asks, "When you said I'd owe you, what did you have in mind?"

Carl grins at her. "We'll talk later." He leaves to go help Denny with his trial.

* * *

The trial against Denny had started. The clerk leads him into Judge Clark Brown's courtroom.

"Carl Sack for the defendant. We'll waive reading of the charges." Carl states.

"For gods sake! What has he done now?" Judge Brown asks.

Denny hopelessly shakes his head and shrugs.

"What he's done, Your Honour, was to have the temerity to defend himself against an armed assailant."

The assistant district attorney, Christopher Palmer, says, "The charge is for possession of a concealed firearm, not shooting."

Denny says, "I have a constitutional right to bear arms. Ask the Supreme Court."

Christopher refutes his claim, "The Supreme Court did not give him the right to conceal the firearm without a carry permit."

"I got a note from Cheney."

"Mr. Crane, you've been accused of breaking the law!" the judge exclaims. "You will stand trial! Is that clear?"

"Your Honour, shouldn't you recuse yourself? After all, I did tell you to bite me that one time."

Carl rolls his eyes and thinks to himself, " _Here we go_."

" _When_?" Judge Brown asks.

"It was... come to think of it now, actually. Bite me."

Judge Brown whacks his gavel; Denny is released into custody of Carl.

* * *

Back at the firm, Carl and Denny argue about his behaviour.

"You cannot, _cannot, cannot_ antagonise the judge!" Carl exclaims.

Denny mutters, "Please."

"The jury will take its cues from him and you know it."

Shirley runs into them in the lobby. "What's going on?"

Carl answers, "We're going to trial."

Denny hails Jerry. "You'll be second charing."

It was news to him. "Won't I be a witness?" Jerry asks.

"I want you as co-counsel. Who better to close than somebody who stared down the barrel of the gun?"

Carl asks, "You want _him_ to close?" He looks to Jerry and says, "No offence..."

Jerry responds, "None taken."

Denny asks, "Why not?"

Shirley then asks, "Denny, do you want to get off or not?"

He, of course, thought the question was sexual in nature. "My place or yours?"

She turns around and walks away in disgust.

"Denny, I'm not really comfortable arguing this one." Jerry stresses.

"You wanna make partner, don't you? You gotta take one for the team."

Jerry nods, agreeing to second chair his trial. Denny walks away, leaving Jerry and Carl. They exchange stares. Neither one of them can see this working out in Denny's favour.

* * *

Alan has a hard time finding something to do. It's a slow day for him. No clients at all, not even walk-ins. As he sits in his office by himself he begins to feel a bit off. His head starts to hurt. He begins to go into panic mode. He doesn't want the same thing that happened a week ago to happen again. Especially since Denny here this time.

Denny leaves his office to visit Alan for a few minutes. He notices Alan in a stupor, clutching his desk in attempt to keep from falling down. He hurries in to see if he's okay. Alan slowly looks over to him with his eyes; he's afraid to move.

Denny gets closer to him, and starts rubbing his upper back. "What's wrong?"

For some strange reason having his back rubbed instantly relaxes him. He lets out a shaky, rather loud sigh as if he just came.

"God, you're weird." Denny mutters. "Are you all right?"

After his body relaxes, Alan slowly lifts his upper body up off the desk. "I'm fine, I think. I don't know what that was. Did you need something?"

Denny almost forgot what he came in for originally. "Dinner?"

"I can't tonight." He could but he didn't feel like going out.

He gripes, "But you're not busy! Your just sitting here, freaking out!"

Alan shrugs. "Sorry, Denny."

Denny is dejected, though he tries not to show it. He nods and sighs, "Okay."

Alan's mind is elsewhere; he definitely wouldn't be a good dinner date. "Maybe lunch tomorrow?"

He nods again. "Fine."

"You okay, Denny?"

"I just miss you today."

"Well, if you didn't deny my help, you'd probably see more of me."

Denny hangs his head low, looking depressed. Alan is guilted into it, as usual. He's too much of a push over, and Denny exploits that flaw of his quite often.

"Oh, what the hell."

Denny grins. "Where to?"

Alan smiles and answers, "Surprise me."

* * *

Denny takes him to a nice restaurant for some dinner and wine. Alan is a little surprised by this. He normally only did this sort of thing with the women he screws around with.

"Denny, is this a date?" Alan jests.

"Do you want to be the next one I shoot?"

Alan doesn't bother to dignify that with a response. Instead he winces from a sharp head twinge.

"Why are you being so snippy with me? Is it something I did?" Denny asks. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I just didn't think you wanted to do a case like this."

Alan shakes his head. "No, it's okay."

They both sit down at the bar while they wait for a table.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Denny asks.

He scoffs. "Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

He exclaims, "I'm worried about you!"

" _You're_ worried about _me_?"

He nods. "Of course."

"You don't have to be. I'll... survive. _You,_ however, do have a lot to worry about tomorrow."

Denny shrugs off his comment. "It's under control."

Alan knows that for Denny, under control actually means it's anything but. He would help but he's honouring his wishes and staying out of it.

"But I _am_ worried about you. That... medical emergency you had— You don't have to tell me about it if you don't want to, I just... hope it's nothing serious."

Alan stares at him for a moment. Truth is that it's beyond serious, and telling Denny about it is something that immensely stresses him out. He tries to get the courage to tell him. "Last week I was talking with Shirley when I suddenly... hit the floor."

"You passed out?"

He clinches his teeth to the point of making his jaw hurt. He grabs Denny's forearm. "Denny, I've got some bad news."

He looks terrified. "What is it?"

Then a sudden wave of numbness flows across Alan. He feels like he's not in his body. He'd give anything for that to be true. The sounds of eating utensils clanking against plates and people talking rattles his brain, and if it's even possible, it makes him dizzy.

"Alan?" Denny tries getting his attention by waving his hand in front of his face.

Alan flinches for no reason other than to get away from the noises and anxiety. " _What the hell is wrong with me now_?" he asks himself. A few seconds later he rushes out of the building and stops outside the door, hyperventilating and shaking. He's still not ready to tell him.

Denny hurries outside to be with him. "What's the matter?"

"I don't know, I just—" His thought train of thought fades away. He cries, "I want it to stop, Denny."

He didn't know what he's supposed to stop, and Alan didn't know how he could stop anything. Denny hasn't seen him like this before. Even during his most stressful days, he had never been this way, at least not around him. He didn't know what to say or do to help him relax.

"Should we go to the hospital?"

Alan shakes his head and doesn't vocally reply. He has no energy to. His lips twitch; his hands and feet tingle. He knew that it was another panic attack. After convincing himself that he's okay, his breathing begins to slow down to normal.

"You calming down now?"

Alan takes a deep breath. "I think so."

"The hell was that?"

He has another painful twinge in his head. "Anxiety attack." Alan mutters. His entire body is buzzing now. He can tell he was squinting his eyes; the adrenaline rush wore him out, and he can't keep his eyes open.

"Can you move?"

Alan nods.

He takes him by the hand and guides him to the car. Alan loses his balance but he catches him. "I've got ya." he softly says to Alan. He doesn't like seeing him this way.

They slowly make it to the car. Alan flops down in the passenger seat.

After Denny gets in he asks, "Are you sure you're okay?"

Alan didn't feel like talking, so he just nods again.

He drives away and heads to Alan's apartment. Alan stares out the window of the car. Halfway there Alan realises that he would be leaving his car back at the firm. "Oh, fuck." he mumbles.

"What?" Denny asks.

Alan could swear he said that in his head. "My car..." he says, pointing behind them.

Denny shrugs. "We'll get it later."

Alan could barely give a damn; he's too exhausted to care.

Denny glances over at Alan. "You look like a zombie." he states.

"Thanks..."

"We're almost there."

* * *

Once they get there it was a relief for Alan. He couldn't wait to get into bed. When they step off the elevator Denny tries walking him to his apartment room but he stops him.

"I'm all right now. I'm just tired." he says. He unlocks his door and settles in. The door is wide open still and Denny is standing in the doorway.

"Do you want me to stay?" Denny asks.

Alan can't think straight. His hearing is muffled. "What'd you say?"

Denny decides he's staying with him for the rest of the night. He waltzes right in.

"Denny, please, just go home. Really, I'm fine." he insists.

He shuts the door behind him. "Alan, really, you're not."

"I'm probably just going to be sleeping."

"I'll just watch some television."

"Denny, you have a trial to be at in the morning."

Denny hastens to say, "No, I don't."

He rolls his eyes. "It's against you."

"No, it isn't."

"You shot a man in his leg and both of his feet!"

Denny shrugs; it wasn't anything new. "I lied."

"Denny, I was there when they arrested you!"

"You were dreaming it!"

Alan sighs and rubs his forehead; his hand covers his eyes. "Denny..." he starts.

Denny raises both eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.

"You're not helping me."

Denny asks, "What can I do?"

He commands, "Go home! _Now_!"

"Fine. I'll call you later." As Denny leaves his apartment, he mumbles under his breath, "Fucking ass—"

Alan indignantly asks, "What was that?"

He hastens to reply, "Nothing."

He glares at Denny until he leaves. Finally he's alone. He loves the company of Denny, but right now he just wants to be on his own. He lies down on the couch and begins to fall asleep. He starts to dream about what it would be like if he wasn't plagued with a brain tumour. It was a nice dream but that's all it was. Nothing would make him happier than to be rid of it. But he chose this. He had the chance to feel better a week ago but never took it. The drugs do help, just not enough.

In his dream he saw his deceased wife. She looked as beautiful as ever, in a black turtleneck sweater and long grey skirt. Her hair an auburn colour, her skin the colour of sand. He looked into her olive green eyes, and just as he was about to say something to her, she disappears. He starts to cry in his sleep, begging her to come back. His eyes open slowly, and he sobs; it was back to reality. She's still gone, and he's still slowly dying. He couldn't get much sleep after that. He just sobs into the cushions of the couch.

* * *

Denny's trial continues on the next morning. Christopher Palmer is questioning officer Stone, the man who arrested him.

"We pulled three guns off him at the scene. When we went to arrest him the next day he had five more guns on him. He also had a little propane thing that wasn't legal." Stone says.

"A 'propane thing'?"

"It was a device strapped to his buttocks. Basically he could break wind and turn his ass into a blow torch."

Denny slightly smirks while Carl glares at him in contempt.

"And did he have any carry permits for these weapons?" Palmer asks.

"No he didn't."

Carl then gets up to question him. "What would have happened had Mr. Crane not been armed?"

Palmer objects, "Cause for speculation!"

"Your Honour, this officer has had fifteen years of experience with criminals and their conducts. He has _foundation_ to speculate."

"I'll allow it."

"So, how do you think it would've gone down?"

"I'm sure he would have been mugged."

"Possibly killed?"

"Possibly. It's also possible that—"

"Thank you, officer. You've answered my question." He's about to sit down when he sees Denny staring at him, expecting him to do something more than that. "Oh! One more thing: When you arrested Mr. Crane, did you want to?"

Palmer snaps, "Objection!"

" _That_ one is sustained."

Denny stands up to object next. "Your Honour..."

He snaps, "What now?"

"By sustaining the objection the jury will never learn that the officer really didn't wanna arrest me."  
He turns to the jury. "Which he really didn't wanna do!"

Carl shakes his head; after all these years he's still in disbelief of how ridiculous Denny can be.

* * *

 Carl and Denny runs into Alan in the lobby.

"Alan, come here for a second." Carl says. He leans in closer to Alan "How about you and I swap places?" he asks, not so subtly.

"I don't _want_ him!" Denny exclaims.

"But you two are having so much fun." Alan says, looking deadpan.

"Fun. Right. Do you know that his ass rigged to be a blow torch?"

Alan raises an eyebrow, and looks at Denny in derision.

"What?" Denny innocently asks.

Alan shakes his head in disbelief. "Who's the judge?"

"Clark Brown."

Alan chortles, "I really am missing out, aren't I?"

Carl now looks desperate.

"Look, Carl, as much as I would _love_ to defend the Human Torch here, I'm becoming hypoglycaemic. I need food." He starts walking away.

"That'll take you, what? Fifteen minutes?"

Alan stops and turns around.

"At least join us."

Alan replies, "You already have Jerry." He glares at Denny and retorts, "Besides, he doesn't _want_ me."

Denny glares back at Alan, then he glances over to Carl, who's also looking at him. "Why is everyone staring at me?" Denny asks.

Carl chides, "You just _had_ to shoot a man."

Denny shrugs it off.

"Just remember who you're doing this for." Alan says as he pats Carl on the shoulder. He leaves for the break room so he can start stuffing his face.

* * *

Alan pulls out a box of day old pizza from the fridge. He bites into it and he immediately starts to have a foodgasm. He can't remember the last time he ate anything.

Shirley comes in to make some tea. She looks over at him as he barely takes another bite and stops. "You okay, Alan?"

He quickly sits down in one of the chairs in the room; he places his hand just under his Adam's apple.

" _God, not again_." he said to himself.

"Are you choking?"

He shakes his head, and makes a writing motion with his one, free hand. There's nothing to write with in the break room, so she rushes to the front desk, and grabs a pen and paper, and hurries back. He writes as best as he can with shaking hands.

She reads it. "' _Panic attack'_. Why are you panicking?"

He has been on edge for days, ever since he found out about the tumour, and rightly so.

"Do you want to go to your office?"

He nods as he tries to calm himself. He takes his sad slice of cheese pizza along. Shirley walks with him to his office.

"Alan, this is why I wanted you to take time off." Shirley says after they make it inside. "If being here is too much for you—"

Alan interrupts, "It's not."

She looks sceptical.

"This isn't anything I can't handle. I might be a wreck now but..."

"You need time to heal."

He can tell she's deeply concerned about him, but still he insists, "I'll be fine."

She sighs.

"The panic attacks, the anxiety... is because of Denny."

She gives him a perplexed stare.

"I know, I should tell him: It's the only moral thing to do. But I cannot—" He starts getting choked up. "I tried telling him. I'm just not ready." he quavers.

"Alan, you'll never be ready if you keep putting it off. There is no perfect time for these things. I know your fear was that you'd focus on it if you were home, but it seems like you're focusing on it regardless of where you are."

"That's only because I'm alone and bored. Give me something to do, Shirley."

Without saying a word, his receptionist comes in to hand him a rather sizeable envelope and leaves.

"What is it?" Shirley asks.

"Must be the MRI. I had it sent here so Denny wouldn't find it."

"And you thought this would be better?"

"Cut me some slack, will you?"

"Alan, he works here!"

"I wasn't thinking clearly."

She stands next to him. "Let's just see what we're up against."

He nods. Slowly he tears the envelope open. He had never felt so nervous about opening something before, except maybe a paternity test. Finally he takes the photo out; then holds it up to the light. Both he and Shirley stare at it in shock. It's not a pretty sight.

"Oh God." she gasps.

The tumour is massive, covering most of his temporal lobe

"Is that whole... _blob_ the tumour?"

Surely there was a better term for it other than "blob" but it's what came to her mind.

"More or less. Most of the mass is oedema: Fluid buildup around the tumour."

There was still something about finally seeing the tumour that unnerved him. As devastating as it was to hear about it, seeing it is even worse.

As he stares at it a bit longer, he muses, "It looks a bit like an egg frying on a skillet."

She nervously chuckles. "Anything to make it seem less threatening, I suppose."

"I can't look at it anymore." he mutters.

She takes it away from him. With his appetite now completely diminished, he tosses the slice of pizza in the trash.

He flops down on the couch in his office.

"I know you must feel— I honestly don't know how you're feeling right now."

"Actually, I don't know either."

Shirley looks as if she'll begin to burst into tears.

The corner of Alan's mouth twitches as he stares worriedly at her. "Shirley, if you cry, I'll start crying and that's not a good look on either of us." he says in jest and in admonishment.

"I'm sorry." she quavers.

He stands up and wraps his arms around her tightly. She sniffles while he silently cries.

"Can I say something?"

"What?" Shirley asks.

"It's more of a request, actually."

They stop hugging.

Shirley wipes the tears from her face. "Alan, what is it?"

He takes a deep breath. "I know this is a big deal but... I don't want any pity. It'll allude to the fact that something might be wrong and people will find out that... something is indeed wrong. So... no pity."

She nods her head. "Understood. I just have one condition."

"Okay..."

"Let me worry about you. Because I'm going to regardless of what you want from any of us."

"I'd be greatly concerned if you didn't." he says.

"Deal?"

He shakes his head and says, "Deal."

They resume their warm, if slightly awkward hug. They never had moments like these -- it was odd.

"You know, Denny will kill you if he sees us hugging."

He shrugs. "That would worry me if I weren't already a dead man."

There they stand, in a tight embrace in the middle of his office.

* * *

Back at Denny's trial, Carl has the stand. He's cross examining Denny.

"A guy pulled a gun on me, so I pulled mine on his."

Carl states, "But the issue here isn't self-defence."

He shrugs. "It _was_ self-defence." 

They talk back and fourth at rapid fire speed.

"Absolutely."

"I mean, if I didn't have my gun..."

"You'd be dead." Carl finishes.

"Gone." he hastens to say.

"Fini."

"I had to shoot. It probably saved my life."

Carl adds, "Probably even Jerry's." as he glances to Jerry.

"Didn't shoot to kill."

"Just to wound."

Denny makes a gun with his hand. "Took a knee."

Carl adds, "And two feet."

Judge Brown can barely keep up with them.

"Boom."

"Boom!"

Jerry just watches the ping pong match going on between the two.

"And boom!"

Christopher shouts, "Objection!" He stands up and asks, "You think this is funny?"

"Funny, uh… Did you have a chuckle the last time someone pulled a gun on you?"

Palmer says to the judge, "This case is about concealing a handgun on the man. Not about self-defence."

"It doesn't mean that we can ignore the reality that if Mr. Crane didn't have his weapon—"

Denny cuts in, "Dead!"

They go back to their quick back and forth.

Carl exclaims, "Boom!"

"Boom!"

The judge screams, "Stop it!!" He seems surprised when everyone does actually stop.

Assistant District Attorney Palmer steps up to question Denny. "You seem to think you have a constitutional right to conceal firearms without a permit."

Denny shrugs and tells him, "I have a right to keep a gun at home. The court says so."

"Tell me, where in The Constitution does it say you can walk the streets, armed, without a carry permit?"

"The Constitution says whatever the Supreme Court says it says. As for what the Supreme Court says, that all depends on who is president."

Carl hopelessly shakes his head. He can't understand his logic.

"Move to strike" Palmer says to Judge Brown.

"You don't have to be a legal genius to know that if you have a President in office who likes guns, and a Vice President who likes to hunt lawyers and quail and a Supreme Court justice who likes to hunt with him... you're gonna have a Constitutional right to shoot bad guys in the knee!"

A.D.A. Christopher Palmer and Judge Clark Brown briefly both stare open-mouthed.

"That's all... I think." Palmer eventually says, slightly unsure. He sits back down.

"Nothing further." Carl states, shaking his head.

Denny takes his seat between Carl and Jerry. He has a smirk on his face, feeling good about that cross-examination.

* * *

After their trial ends for the day, Carl goes to be with Shirley. He needs a break from the Mad Cow. "I swear to you, the man doesn't have Alzheimer's. He uses the 'Mad Cow' as an excuse to do whatever the hell he wants, whether it's dropping his pants or shooting people." He starts pouring himself a drink from her mini bar.

Shirley stops what she's doing. She exclaims, "He had a PET scan, it showed he has plaque on his brain!"

"Says who? He's Denny Crane, you think he can't rig a PET scan?!" he demands. "He knows what he's doing, Shirley."

"Is he going to win?"

He takes a seat on her couch. " _That_ , I don't know. We don't have much of a defence," he replies. "How's Alan doing?"

She heavily sighs. "He's having anxiety attacks."

He looks somewhat perplexed. " _Anxiety attacks_?" he echoes.

"I think it's split between finding out and having to tell Denny."

"He hasn't told him yet?"

She shakes her head.

"This isn't fair to him." he says.

She half smiles. "No. But they've known each other for seven years, Carl. He's basically all Denny has; Alan is everything to him."

"Which is exactly why he deserves to know."

"I'm not agreeing with him, but he's scared."

He begins to realise that Alan hasn't told _anyone_ , let alone Denny. He gets up to leave. "Where is he?" he asks. "I want to talk with him."

She exhorts, "Carl, please..."

He leaves her office to find him. Shirley truly didn't like being in the middle and neither did Carl. He just has more tenacity to do something about it.

"God, give me the strength." she mutters. She hurries after him. "Carl!" she calls out.

He ignores her completely. He leans into Jerry's office. "Jerry, can you come to the conference room?"

He assumes it's about Denny's case, and does as he's told.

"Carl, what are you doing?" Shirley asks.

Denny walks past them, heading for his office.

"Denny," Carl starts. He halts and turns around. "Conference room. Now."

"Don't tell me what to do."

Carl glares at him until finally Denny leaves. He then turns to Shirley. "Get Paul."

She has a stare of contempt; she sighs and goes to fetch Paul.

Finally Alan shows up with three cookies in one hand and one half eaten cookie in another.

"Alan!" he exclaims as he pats Alan on the back. "Just the man I've been looking for. Come with me, please."

He sarcastically says, "I've always known you had a thing for me, but I'm afraid you might be too much man for me, Carl."

He gives Alan a disdainful look. "Just come."

Alan lifts an eyebrow and smirks. That command only escalated the innuendo. Carl grabs him by the bicep and walks him into the conference room. Alan looks at Carl's hand. "I should write you up. This is harassment." he jests.

Carl retorts, "Just eat your cookies."

* * *

He and Carl make it to the conference room. Alan looks around the table at everyone. He raises a brow; he's severely perplexed by what's going on.

"Take a seat everyone. We're just waiting on Paul." Carl says.

"Why are we here?" Jerry asks.

Alan and Denny wants to know why as well. Paul and Shirley finally enter into the room.

"Alan has something he wants to tell us." Carl says to everyone.

After swallowing the last bite of one of the cookies, he asks, "I do?"

Carl quickly nods.

At that point Alan was already onto him, but he figures he'll throw him for a loop. "Well, now that I'm here I do have a few things that I want to say," he starts. "You might wanna..." He makes a lowering motion with his hands. Everyone sits down while Alan remains standing. He sharply inhales. "The bathroom fixtures haven't been fixed in five years, the coffee here is terrible, the receptionist _reeks_ of that _God awful_ perfume she wears, I despise Paul, but I suspect that's a well known fact by now, Carl is becoming a close second, Shirley is a tease, Jerry I have no complaints with, Denny's fly has been undone _all day_ , and I've eaten _several_ of these cookies in the last fifteen minutes. Eight, actually."

Everyone is speechless. Denny zips up in front of everyone. Alan smugly looks at Carl, completely satisfied with himself.

"Isn't there... something else?" Carl asks.

"There is." he replies. He waits for someone to ask what it is but no one does. "Is there nutmeg or cinnamon in these?"

Jerry says, "I think it's cinnamon."

Alan shrugs. "Whatever it is, I've no doubt gained five pounds from eating them." He looks to Carl and asks, "May we speak in private?"

He and Carl go to Alan's office.

"The hell was that?" Alan asks.

"They need to know what's going on."

He glowers at him. " _You know_?" he asks. "Shirley told you, didn't she?"

Carl dons a poker-face. Deep down he's actually scared of Alan for once. Eventually Alan's scowl wears him down, and he nods.

"Let me tell you something: First off, who I tell and when I tell them is of no concern to you! And second, who the hell gave you the right—"

He interjects, "You're absolutely right. I shouldn't have done that, and I'm sorry for thrusting it upon you, but— Alan, people are asking about you; asking about what happened to you. These people genuinely care. They deserve to know."

Alan lets out a long, deep exhale; his eyes are shut.

"Preferable _before_ your funeral." Carl adds.

He chortles, "I'm not dying." He's still in denial of it.

Carl looks sceptical. "Granted I don't know everything going on behind the scenes, but a brain tumour doesn't exactly scream, 'I'm the picture of health', Alan."

He scoffs at him. "I'm actually okay."

"On medication."

The corner of Alan's mouth twitches. "What do you want me to do?"

"Just do what you said you'd do. You don't _have_ to tell _everybody_ : Denny is a good place to start."

He heavily sighs; he still isn't ready to tell Denny, but he's right. It's a decent place to start, and he is his Flamingo after all.

* * *

Denny walks by Jerry's office. He back tracks and stops, gawking from what he sees. He then goes into Jerry's office, where the towering Jerry Espenson stands atop his desk. "Jerry?"

He glances at him. "Denny."

"What are you doing?"

Jerry shrugs. "Standing on my desk." he says, stating the obvious.

"Any particular reason why?"

He explains, "I'm having an out of body experience. I'm looking down on myself while I give my compelling closing."

Denny thinks to himself, " _And this weirdo make be partner someday soon_." He motions for Jerry to come off the desk. "How's about you get down from there, big fella?" He helps Jerry down, and Jerry shakes it off, almost like a dog shaking water off its body. "You want to do well here, right?" Denny asks.

He replies, "I do."

"Because lawyers who get me off tend to make partner. Especially women lawyers."

Jerry begins heartily laughing, mainly to stay on Denny's good side.

"Stop laughing, Jerry."

Jerry immediately stops.

"I notice you twiddling the wooden cigarette. Makes you feel confident, doesn't it?"

He nods and says, "It helps."

Denny reaches into his blazer pocket. "I have here... a wooden cigar. It's yours." He starts handing it over, Jerry reaches for it, then Denny pulls it away. " _If_ you do a good job -- and by doing a good job, Jerry, you personally ensure that every American has the right, the privilege of carrying a gun! How many lawyers have that opportunity? Truly?"

Jerry is tempted. He so wants a wooden cigar. If a cigarette can help, imagine what a cigar would do.

* * *

Nearing the end of Denny's case, where Palmer and Jerry has to give closing statements, and not one idea has entered Jerry's mind. He wants to do well by Denny, though truthfully, he was against him. Wanting to become partner, however, led him to fake it. 

Palmer is still giving his closing, and it is rather compelling. The entire time Jerry wonders how he'll pull it off. He sits there between two amazing lawyers he has no business being with, his stomach twisting into knots as a burning ball of anxiety rolls around inside of him.

He's near the end of his closing statement. Jerry can hear him but hardly acknowledges him.

"Does the defense really mean to suggest that folks should be allowed to walk around concealing their firearms? Or is it just that Denny Crane is above the law? Or maybe, as his testimony suggests, it's all in good fun. Why be so concerned about something as trivial as human life?"

Jerry still stays seated, glued to his chair,

Carl looks over at him nervously. "Jerry, you have to get up now."

He still doesn't move. Then it hits him: Who would most likely win in this situation? He wants this partnership more than anything. He knows now what he has to do -- pull an Alan Shore. 

He shoots up, sending the chair flying back against the dividing wall. Wooden cigarette in hand, he oozes confidence. "Human life? Human life? Can we just please dispense with the human life jingle? It's so boring."

Carl gawks, thinking the worst already.

"Of course we're all pro-human life. Show of hands: How many in favor of people not being dead?"

He, and most everyone else, raises their hand. 

"But let's face it," he continues. "We love guns. Go to the movies, for Pete's sake, turn on your TV. We're a pistol-totin', gun-lovin' people. Remember, we started this country with the _shot_ heard round the world, not legislation. Look, Denny Crane is a lawyer himself, a scholar. In fact if there are two legal minds that were ever in perfect sync in this country it would be those of Antonin Scalia and Denny Crane." 

Denny looks on, beaming with pride.

"Can you imagine? Denny Crane on the Supreme Court?"

Carl leans forward with a concerned look on his face.

"Wow. Scalia, Roberts, Thomas, Alito and Crane! Talk about birds of a feather!"

"Jerry? _What_ _are_ _you_ _doing_?" Carl asks, nearly under his breath but still loud enough for Jerry to hear.

"What am I doing? I'm celebrating the actions of my client!" He turns back to the jurors. "I'm acknowledging that he, along with the Supreme Court, not all, but the big five, are smarter than any other Supreme Court we've ever had. I mean, no other Supreme Court in our two hundred year history could find a right to bear arms for non-military purposes. _But_ _suddenly_! _Presto_! Thank God for the big five! I tell ya!" He bends over to pick up a sign and reads from it. " _'A_ _well regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed'_. It turns out that the trick is to just ignore the first thirteen words!" He uses a black marker to X them out. "Home free! See, Big Tony calls this the _prefatory_ clause. Prefatory, I guess that means _worthless_."

"And _this_ is—" He circles the rest of the words. "—the _operative_ clause. Of course! All this nonsense about the right being necessary for a well-regulated militia, they put that in for fun. Those founding father jokesters," He lets out a pseudo hearty laugh. "We weren't supposed to actually take this part seriously. How could all those stupid Supreme Courts over the last two hundred years have fallen for that?"

Carl rises and asks the judge, "May I have a word with co-counsel?"

Jerry instead answers for him. "No you may not! Sit down, Happy Sack!" He was only getting started. With his cigarette now in his mouth, he goes on. "They always say political questions should be decided by elected officials! But as for guns --  _nuh uh_! _They say_ we need to pay close attention to the precise words in the Constitution, but for guns -- _nuh uh_! _They say_ they loathe judicial activism but when it comes to guns -- _nuh uh_!"

"Don't you just love these premies? McCain does. He wants to go out and find more judges exactly like them. He's a smarty pants too, that McCain, he knows how to become a president. He once co-sponsored a bill closing the gun show loophole, but now? _Nuh uh_! He now believes the second amendment means no gun control. That might make him even smarter than Big Tony! Even the premies. And Obama! He's no dummy! He once took a stand on no fire arms, but in his blueprint for change," Jerry shrugs. "nada, nothing on gun control. I guess we don't need _that_ much change."

Judge brown whacks his gavel.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury you cannot convict Denny Crane. If anything this man should be canonised! Oh, don't you just love that word 'canonised'? Sounds like a big gun. Show of hands, how many here are titillated?"

The judge bangs his gavel again.

"Denny Crane, like Big Tony, like the premies, he doesn't look at the meaning of the Constitution and ask, ' _why_?'. He sees meanings that never were and says, ' _Why not_?'. My client is a real American. Flag on his lapel, gun in his pants, he shoots bad guys. There is nothing more red, white and blue than him! A man who _knows_ , as does our president, as do the big five --human life is simply no match for a gun!"

Finally, he sits back down. Carl looks decidedly nervous while Denny is still grinning from cheek to cheek.

* * *

 Now in a witness room, Jerry and Denny are scolded by Carl, as per usual.

"What the hell was that?!" Carl demands, his voice almost scaring the crap out of Jerry.

"Was I not compelling?" Jerry asks.

"You just sent him to jail! What could possibly possess you—?"

"You did, for starters. You said to give Denny what he needs! He needed to lose."

"He needed to lose…" he reiterated, still unsure of whether or not he has lost his mind. "And you made that decision?"

"Denny did!"

The two look to Denny.

"Carl my friend, the trick to changing a law is not to beat it, but to get beat. Then you can appeal to a court that can change it."

"What are you talking about?"

"The Massachusetts legislature is never gonna let us pack a pistol. You gotta get it to the Supreme Court. They'll take care of it."

Carl folds his arms whist glowering at Denny. "You can't be serious. You want to lose so you can an appeal to the Supreme Court?"

Denny ignores him, chuckling as he reaches into his pocket. "Jerry my boy, let me present you a wooden cigar. You earned it my friend."

Jerry graciously takes it from him, thanking him. 

* * *

Moments later they have their verdict. They go back into the courtroom. The clerk hands Judge Brown a piece of paper.

Denny asks under his breath, "Will it go straight to the Supreme Court?"

"Well, no," Carl replies. "You've got to elicit the Appeals Court. You have to lose again with the SJC. But, not to worry, Jerry's closing will get the job done."

"Mr. Foreman, you have reached a unanimous verdict?" Brown asks.

"We have, Your Honor."

"What say you?"

"In the matter of The Commonwealth of Massachusetts versus Denny Crane on the charge of carrying a concealed firearm without a permit, we the jury, find the defendant, Denny Crane," He pauses to keep the suspense up. "Not guilty.

Carl is all smiles while Denny, even the judge can't believe it.

"We won?!" Denny demands. Your Honor, we appeal!"

"You can't appeal an acquittal! You're the defendant!"

"Sorry, Denny. Guess you can't lose them all." he said, appearing undeniably smug. 

"I can't lose _any_!"

* * *

Later that night, Alan and Denny sit on their balcony, drinking and smoking cigars. The cold, crisp October air was almost too much for Alan, even with his heavy coat on. 

"I really hate autumn in Boston." Alan muses. 

"So move."

He shoots Denny a deadpan gaze. "And leave you to shoot half the city? I don't think so."

"You actually think I’m a nut to carry a gun?"

"To carry five all at once? Yes, Denny, that raises you to lunatic status."

"And you would never own one?"

"I didn't say that."

Denny scoffs. "You're afraid to even hold one, you girl you."

"I have one. In a safe, at home," He stares intently at his glass of scotch. "Thirty-eight."

He looks decidedly shocked. " _You_  have a thirty-eight?"

Alan nods.

"I can't fathom a Liberal like you owning a gun."

"And here you thought you knew me, eh Denny?"

He snaps his fingers when an idea strikes him. "We should go hunting, you and I."

Alan shakes his head, laughing mirthlessly. "No."

"Oh, come on!"

"You _know_ I hate nature."

"You went to Nimmo Bay -- you enjoyed that."

He shrugs. "I merely tolerated it, Denny. I didn't enjoy it."

Denny knows he's lying. There were many times he saw him laughing and smiling -- he even said he was glad they went. "Whatever you say, Alan…"

Alan smiles and watches as Denny drinks his scotch. "I'm sorry…" he says out of nowhere, not realising it was out loud.

"For what?"

His eyes blink rapidly, brow furrowing in confusion. "I— N-nothing, Denny. Don't mind me."

"Is this part of those panic attack things?"

"No, Denny, it isn't." he replies, sighing.

Regardless, he's still worried, and he decides to say something he rarely says to anyone. "Alan, this isn't easy for me to say, but… I care about you." 

Denny didn't even cringe -- not outwardly or inwardly. He feels odd having said it, but in a good way.

It leaves Alan nearly speechless. His eyes are wide, his mouth agape. His lips twitch while he thinks of something to say. "Denny, I— You… caught me off guard with that one."

He shrugs his shoulders. "You don't have to say it back…" He smiles fondly. "Just know that I mean it."

Silence falls for a moment. All they do is stare at one another, one flamingo still smiling while the other is still perplexed. Suddenly, Alan shoots up from his seat and gives Denny a hug, not giving him a chance to set down his glass and cigar or even to stand up. 

Denny gently rubs his upper back, occasionally patting it. 

If only Alan could have the guts to say what he wants to, like Denny just did. He made it look so easy. It's strange -- Alan has a way with words, sometimes speaking longer than he needs to, but now, when he needed words the most, they up and left on a pleasure cruise to the Bahamas. 

Out of the blue, Alan finally says something. "You smell good…"

This perplexes Denny. " _Do I?_ " he inwardly wonders. He can't check; Alan is in the way. "Um… Thanks…?" 

The phrase Alan used was something of an inside thing between him and his ex, Tara. 

Their embrace ends, despite Alan wanting to stay that way forever. If nothing more than for warmth. 

Denny and Alan stay on the balcony a few more hours before calling it a night, heading to their respective homes -- well, _a_ home; one was a two story home while the other was a tiny one bedroom apartment. 

* * *

Alan did the usual ritual of getting out of his suit, brushing his teeth and climbing into a cold, lonesome bed. He asked Denny to sleep over but after his weird behaviour on the balcony, he not so politely declined. So, it was just Alan and his thoughts, as per usual these days. He lies awake in bed, thinking of how and what to say to Denny, how to break it to him. It shouldn't be this difficult -- just the two words _I'm dying_ would suffice. Unfortunately, that's hitting it too hard on the nail. One day he'll get it -- and hopefully that day would be -- as Carl suggests --  _before_ his funeral. 


	3. Made in China

Denny and Shirley were called in. Denny comes off the elevator. He and Shirley are there for a late night meeting.

"What's up?" Denny asks.

Shirley replies, "All I know is that they made a deal and they want us to sign off before—"

He asks, "We merged?"

"Evidently. We'll know more in a minute,"

They get on the elevator Denny just stepped out of, heading up to the 28th floor.

"They're all waiting for us."

"Who?" Once they step off the elevator, he asks, "What about Edwin Poole? Doesn't he have to sign off on this?"

"I'm told he was called."

"What does this mean for us? More specifically, me." He had more questions than Shirley had answers to.

"I don't know the details. Let's just hear what they have to say." she says, but barely was able to finish answering.

They stop at the doorway of the conference room, gawking.

"What the hell is this?" Denny asks.

There were at least nine Chinese men in the room with Paul Lewiston.

"Shirley, Denny, I'd like you to meet Hyung Lee and Zhu Chang." Paul says.

Both Denny and Shirley are bewildered.

Shirley utters, "Hello."

"They're all Chinese."

"Mr. Chang is the CEO of Zhu Chang International. They recently acquired Finlay and Cravette They're looking to acquire Crane, Poole and Schmidt."

"What _are_ you talking about?"

"I thought we were merging with Finlay." Shirley says almost under her breath.

"Yes, well, Finlay is now really Zhu International."

Denny steps closer to them. "Are you telling me we're being bought out by the Chinese?"

Completely disregarding his question, Paul says, "The good news is they plan to keep on most of the attorneys here. So as far as transitions go—"

Denny, as he goes back to Shirley's side, interrupts, "I've seen their transitions in Tibet. I'm not a fan. We're not selling to a bunch of commies."

That made everyone they were negotiating with furious.

"What? More talk? Bring it on! You're not getting my firm!" Denny exclaims.

They begin to argue again. Then Denny pulled out two guns filled with paintball bullets, and starts shooting everyone in there except for Paul and Shirley, who are both hiding. The Chinese men flee the room. All that can be seen are green pain splatters.

"Well... that went over well." Shirley states sarcastically.

* * *

Shirley is in her office; reading and dwelling.

Paul approaches her. "I _think_ I managed to smooth things over."

"Why didn't you tell me who you were negotiating with?"

"They're a reputable company."

"They're Chinese."

"Lots of American companies are owned by the Chinese, Shirley."

"We don't have to be one of them." she insists.

He sighs and says, "Shirley, we don't have any other bidders. We have about three weeks before we can't make payroll—"

She cuts him off. "Paul, this firm is my legacy, my name is on the plaque, and I don't have to remind you of China's track record on human rights. There has to be alternatives."

Paul admits, "There aren't any."

Shirley's cell phone rings. Paul glances over at the bridal magazines she was reading, while she answers her phone. The police are on the other end.

"Shirley Schmidt," she states on the phone. Suddenly she looks decidedly distressed. "What?"

Paul is now concerned. "What is it?"

"What's the address?" she asks.

Something is definitely not right.

"We'll be right over." She hangs up and looks to Paul. "Denny has been arrested."

"What?" Paul gasps. He looks down at his pocket watch and says, "It's one 'o clock in the morning."

Shirley grabs her things. "Let's go."

* * *

When they arrived at Penelope Kimball's house, Denny's friend whom he slept with once, they were greeted by a detective.

"I'm Shirley Schmidt and this is Paul Lewiston. We represent Denny Crane. Where is he?"

"In the den." the officer replies.

"What happened?"

"He broke in and sexually assaulted the woman who resides here."

Both Paul and Shirley couldn't believe it. Denny was always harassing women, but never to this degree. It didn't sound like something he'd do. They enter the den where he was.

He states to both Shirley and Paul, "I called Alan. Couldn't get him."

Alan wasn't feeling too hot at the time of Denny's incident. He was having bad headaches, some nausea and blurred vision. He's on the floor, holding his head as if it would stop the pain. His condition has taken a turn for the worse and he hates to admit it. Alan's phone went off a few times earlier but he ignored it. It was Denny every time; he didn't want to talk with him -- or anyone else. He always tried not to be a person who felt sorry for himself but tonight was no exception. He lies down on the floor, staring at the ceiling. He didn't pray often but he was praying hard this time. For Denny to somehow overcome his Alzheimer's and for Alan's condition to clear up. If it even could.

Denny explains to Shirley and Paul that it was all a misunderstanding.

"You climbed into her bed?" Paul asks Denny.

"I thought she'd like it! We have a sort of... chemistry." Denny says.

Shirley tells him, "Not anymore."

"Can't I just apologise to her and go home?"

"I don't think it's going to be that easy. You've been charged with breaking and entering and sexual assault."

He says to the both, "Oh please. Who do I make the check out to?"

Shirley sighs as Paul cautions, "Denny, this isn't the time to be flippant. You're in serious trouble here."

Denny was scared. He had been in trouble before, but with everything riding on his Supreme Court case, with the current state of the firm, this certainly wouldn't help anything if word of this got out.

Meanwhile, Alan is on the way to the hospital by ambulance. He can't call his best friend. That would mean he'd have to explain what's been going on for the last two months. It was hard enough to tell to Shirley, and he was thankful she hadn't said anything to Denny. To say anything now would hurt him. He couldn't do that to him, not after what he has been through.

Denny's Alzheimer's, or Mad Cow as he so often called it, was progressing, and the only possible cure for was a drug that hadn't been approved yet. They were going to the Supreme Court to get approval for use of the drug. Add to that, Shirley and Carl were getting married, much to Denny's chagrin. The last thing Alan wanted to do was make matters worse. But he can't hide it much longer. The drugs he's on aren't working anymore.

* * *

Alan had gotten back from spending the rest of the night at the hospital, and arrived at the firm.

Shirley spots him from across the lobby and approaches him. "Where were you this morning?"

Alan's squints in confusion. He doesn't remember what happened. He had too much brain fog going on.

"You look awful—"

Alan glares.

"—ly great!"

He still holds his gaze. "Excellent save, Shirley." Alan says with a sneer.

"Denny was arrested." she blurts out.

His glare quickly became a look of annoyance. He rolls his eyes. "What for this time?" he asks.

"You probably should talk with Denny about this."

He inhales sharply and reiterates, "What did he get arrested for?"

She was nervous to tell him. She could tell he's already pissed off about something. "He... broke into a friend's house, a former girlfriend I assume, and got into bed with her. Naked."

Alan has no idea what to say. So much was rattling his nerves to begin with and now this. He barges into Denny's office. "Are you kidding me?"

Denny scoffs. "Oh please, everyone's overacting."

" _Overreacting_?!" he snaps. "You broke into a woman's house in the middle of the night, climbing into her bed, _naked—_!"

Denny exclaims, "I do that all the time!"

Alan looks as though he could kill Denny right now. He clinches his jaw.

"What? Her back door was open. Was I not supposed to go in?"

"Gee, there's a thought." Alan retorts through grit teeth.

"Look, the last time she and I spoke, we talked about Christmas. I said, 'This year I'm going as the little drummer boy. Instead of gifts, I'm going to show up and play my instrument.' And she said, 'Oh, I'd like that.' and I mistook that for an invitation of sorts."

"Denny, we're scheduled to go up before the Supreme Court on Friday. Do you have _any_ idea what this could mean for us?" He was getting fed up with Denny's antics as of late; shooting people, moronically taking drugs that could've killed him -- it's beginning to be too much.

"Alan, we've got much bigger problems than that." Denny says, avoiding a big lecture.

"What?" he asks, folding his arms.

"We are—" Denny leans over to check if anyone is in the hall. "We're being bought out by the Chinese." he whispers.

Alan couldn't tell if he was making this up or not. "What are you talking about?"

"It's all a big secret, but I'm telling you. A Chinese company has reached an agreement in principle to buy us. This whole place was crawling with them. Ho Chi Minh city, I kid you not."

Alan still wasn't buying it. "Why would a Chinese company want to buy an American law firm?"

"They're buying out everything. They're taking over."

* * *

In Shirley's office, she and Carl discuss the buy out.

"How could you not have been in the loop on this?" Carl asks.

"I was told they were a parent company of Finley. I had no idea." She sighs deeply and she tells Carl, "I want to stop it."

"Can we?"

"The only thing I can think of is an injunction, trying to block it on public policy."

"Public policy?"

"Well, it can't be a good thing for Chinese companies to be scooping up American law firms. It's definitely not good for us." she insists.

He chuckles a bit. "All in all, we picked a good time to get married, didn't we?" he asks sarcastically.

She then chuckles herself.

Penelope arrives at her office door. "Ms. Schmidt. We didn't actually get to meet last night. I'm Penelope Kimball." she states, shaking Shirley's hand.

"Ah, yes," She says to Carl, "This is Penelope. She was the victim of Denny's—"

"Right..." He shakes her hand.

"Why don't you have a seat." she says to Penelope.

"I feel really, really terrible about all of this." Penelope admits.

It was safe to say that everyone felt the same way.

"Denny is maintaining its some sort of misunderstanding. Is that possible?" Shirley asks.

"Denny… didn't seem to understand anything last night. He seemed disoriented and confused. It wasn't— It didn't seem like an assault of any kind so much as... he seemed really, really confused. Like he didn't really know where he was."

Shirley's eyes dart to Carl, who looks as concerned as she does.

"Well, thank you for... explaining last nights... event."

Penelope smiles as she stands up to leave.

"Penelope, Denny is truly sorry for last night." Shirley adds.

She nods, half smiling. "I just hope he's okay."

* * *

Shirley had to tell this to Alan. He was basically Denny's caregiver at this point. She enters his office.

"Shirley. What's up?" Alan asks. He could see that she was distraught and scared.

"First off, I have to ask: How are you feeling?" she asks.

He shrugs and replies, "I've felt better. Why?"

The corner of her mouth twitches slightly. The news would definitely make him feel worse but she has no choice but to tell the truth. She sits down in front of him. "I've got some news. It's not good."

"Ah. Denny told me about the buy out..."

She rolls her eyes. Clearly nothing was sacred around here. "We'll talk about that later." she hastens to say. "This is... about Denny."

That made Alan stop what he was doing. "Now what did he do?"

"Penelope came in a few moments ago. She wanted to explain what happened last night. She said that Denny was disoriented. He didn't even know where he was."

He clinches his jaw; he's barely able to breathe.

"Alan... whatever you have to do to get that drug, even if it's borderline illegal... do it."

* * *

Both Alan and Shirley confront Denny about it. He's feeling like he's being ganged up on and he doesn't like it at all. He still kept to his story.

"That's ridiculous. I was in her bed, looking to play my 'instrument'," Denny insists. "She's a very sexy lady. You should be thankful I didn't crawl into yours." he boasts to Shirley.

"Denny, there's no point in lying to us." Alan says.

"I'm not!" He's becoming agitated.

"Denny, look at me."

He looked away from his hands and right to Alan.

"Tell me what happened last night."

Denny still denies it. "I told you already."

Neither of them believe him.

Finally he confesses. "I don't know what happened. All of a sudden, the police were there. I was in the wrong house, and I wasn't wearing anything..."

Both Alan's and Shirley's stomachs sink down immediately.

"I remember being upset at home. I couldn't sleep, I was so worried about the communist invasion. Next thing I knew... I was naked. And I'm talking to police officers. I don't even remember talking to Penelope."

Suddenly, everything else Alan physically felt prior to this had disappeared.

"I want that drug, Alan." Denny says.

It takes Alan a second for him to be able to form words. "We'll go to the Supreme Court on Friday." Alan quavers.

* * *

Jerry and Katie were helping Alan with the Supreme Court case. All around them were cardboard cutouts of all the justices. They keep hitting a wall.

"The question becomes: if they refused to hear almost exactly the same case before, why are they doing so now?" Katie ponders.

Jerry shrugs and says, "I don't know." After staring at the cutouts for a moment, he begins feel uneasy. "It's a bit daunting being in a room with them. Even when they're just cutout posters."

Alan checks in on them. "How are we doing?"

"Well, there's no constitutional right to experimental treatment. We're going to have to locate authority elsewhere." Katie answers.

"What about right to privacy? "

"It's been tried before and rejected."

"Medical self defence?"

"Also tried and rejected."

That was everything he could think of to try. "What _have_ you got?" he asks them both.

Jerry looks to Katie. They had nothing.

"We're still looking..." she replies.

Alan sighs and begins to leave the room.

Just as he was leaving, Jerry says, "Alan, I've heard rumours about the firm—"

"I don't have time for rumours right now, Jerry."

After he leaves Jerry blows a raspberry in his direction.

* * *

 Things are heating up between Shirley and Paul and not in a fun way.

"Look, Shirley, nobody likes this!" Paul shouts.

"Why can't we get a line of credit?" she asks.

"Credit? Have you been living on this planet?"

"We've got assets in the millions!"

"And liabilities into the tens of millions! I wonder whose fault that was?"

"So we just make a deal with the devil?"

"They are not the devil!"

" _These_ people are."

"Because they're Chinese?"

"Yes!"

He scoffs, and Carl cringes at her anewer.

"You're a bigot." Paul says, hands waving in her direction.

"I'm entitled to my own opinion. I realise I wouldn't be if I were in China."

"You're out of line."

"If this merger goes through—"

"You can make your case with the partners."

"I'll take my name off the firm."

"Your name is firm property, you do not own it!"

"I'll go to court."

"Fine. I'll wave to you from the other side." Paul slams the door behind him as he leaves.

"Thanks for having my back, Carl." she mutters.

"Shirley, if you expect to have any success, either with the partners or in court, you'll need to check your prejudice at the door."

"I have no problem with the Chinese, or Chinese Americans — but the government, which a lot of these companies—"

He interjects, "Yes, you know what? I think you should check your anger at the door as well."

* * *

It's now evening. Alan and Denny are in Denny's office having a few drinks. If it weren't for the cold weather they would be sitting outside on his balcony.

As Alan pours a drink he says, "I spoke to the D.A. and I was able to get your charges dropped."

How'd you manage that?"

"It wasn't that difficult. Penelope also spoke to them, so..."

Denny tilts his head back; looking towards the ceiling. "Deep down that woman wants me." he muses.

"Do not go back there." Alan chides.

He wasn't about to. He would just cause more trouble.

"Thank you, Alan." he says. "Alan, lemme ask you something. It may seem crazy, but I want you to think about it."

"Okay." Alan says, unsure if he wants him to go on.

Denny shifts anxiously in his seat. Alan chuckles nervously; wondering where this is going.

"Will you marry me?" Denny asks.

Alan stares back at him incredulously, pondering if he's serious.

"I know, the sex is lousy." Denny jests. He giggles at his own joke, then goes on to be serious. "But it's legal in Massachusetts, same sex marriage, and there are going to be decisions ahead— medical decisions that a spouse gets to make if I should become... you know."

Alan insists, "You can stipulate that in a living will or by proxy. We don't _need_ to get married."

"There are other reasons. Last night, I climbed into a neighbour's bed. I shot a few Chinese, although I don't apologise for that."

Alan was going to take this time to tell him what was going on with him but this took precedence.

"How many times have I been arrested now?" Denny asks.

Alan tried counting the number of times, but it was easier just to sum it up. "A lot."

"And my odd for getting arrested again for who know what is—"

Alan takes a moment to try and fathom the proposal.

"I need to be able to tell you things."

Alan reassures him, "You can always—"

Denny interrupts, "Let me finish."

He keeps his mouth shut for the time being.

He resumes, "Although I know you'd resist, the police could subpoena you, forcing you to reveal whatever I tell you."

Alan tries to speak but Denny interrupts him again.

"You could be held in contempt if you refuse. _You_ could end up in jail. On the other hand, if you had _spousal privilege_..."

Alan scoffs. " _My God, he is serious._ " he thought. 

"I could talk to you without worrying about you incriminating yourself later..." 

He sighs as he exasperatedly says Denny's name.

"For my piece of mind... what little I have left."

"Let's be serious here." he chortles.

"I _am_ being serious."

Denny insists. In his own, strange way of thinking, it made sense to Denny, and Alan could see what he was getting at. He was actually a bit moved, but still unsure.

"What we have now is so great, why ruin it with... marriage?"

"Who knows how long I have, Alan."

"You have a long time. We're going to the Supreme Court, and we're going to get you that drug."

He reaches over to take Alan's hand. "Just think about it."

* * *

On the 28th floor, a partner vote for the merger is being held, with Paul leading the vote. All partners, with the exception of Edwin Poole because he's still on leave, are in the room. As it stands now there are twenty one ayes and six nays.

"The nays have it." Shirley says.

Everyone looks to her a second.

Paul goes on, "The motion to approve the merger is—"

"The nays have it."

Once again they all look in her direction.

"The merger has been approved." he says.

She extorts "I'll get an injunction."

Both her and Paul glare at each other a moment.

"We can get injunctions on our own, Shirley."

"Take your shot, Paul."

The other partners just listen to their back and forth threats.

"Shirley, there are many ways to go out. On your ass isn't one of the better ones."

"You might want to keep that in mind, Paul." Carl retorts.

* * *

It's the next day. Denny comes off the elevator after having lunch, and he sees the commies, as he calls them, in the lobby. He whips out his gun; almost shooting them with paintballs. Again.

"Denny, come on." Carl growls. He walks up to Denny and tries getting him to put the gun away.

"You for this merger, Carl?" Denny asks.

"No, of course not. But this is a bit of a duress sale. We don't want assistants and secretaries losing their homes. God forbid you should have to sell your Gulf Stream."

"Is Shirley is going to court?"

"She is. I'll be joining her."

"I'm coming with you two."

Carl cringes at that idea. "Denny, are you—?"

"My name is on the door, too!"

"Understood, but we have to present a rational front—" Just then Denny shoots Carl in the leg, leaving a green paint stain. He doesn't take his eyes off Denny. With an annoyed glare he commands, "Give it to me."

Denny hands the gun over. It's not like he didn't have others in his desk.

* * *

Denny then went to Shirley to tell her he's going with her. She's in her office getting fitted for her wedding dress.

"Am I not supposed to see you before the big day?" asks Denny.

She chuckles and replies, "You're not the groom."

He smiles. "There's still time." There is a moment of silence before Denny adad, "I'm coming with you to stop the merger."

Shirley begins to panic. "Oh no, Denny don't..."

"My absence will be conspicuous."

She adds, "And much appreciated by _all_."

"I won't shoot anybody. I'll keep my clothes on..."

She doesn't believe him for a second.

"Well I won't shoot anybody." Denny jests.

"Denny, I can't take the risk."

"I'm a name partner!" After a second of gazing at her he realises how amazing she looks. "God, you're beautiful." he observes, trying so hard not to fall even further in love with her.

"Thank you."

Silence fell again. Finally Denny broke up the silence and says, "I'm going to pack... my trial bag."

As Shirley watches him leave, she felt guilty for even thinking that he couldn't handle the case.

* * *

 Later on, long after she's been fitted for her dress, Alan takes the time to go visit Shirley. He knocks on her already open door.

She looks up from her desk, and smiles at him. "Any luck with the case yet?" she asks.

"Not yet. I keep hitting a wall." he says.

She notices that he looks fraught. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not doing too well, Shirley."

She stands up from behind the desk, and sits down on the couch with him.

He grabs her hand and squeezes it tight. "The pills don't work anymore. No matter how far I up the dosage." he tells her.

She says, "If you need to take some time off—"

"I can't do that. This case—" He lets out a harsh exhale. " _Denny_... needs me."

"We all do. I know I don't say this much, if at all, but I do love you, Alan. Probably not in the same way as you love me—"

He hastens to say, "I love you, too."

She turns her head in the other direction, avoiding his eyes.

He tries get her to look at him. "I'm not going to die." he says. That catches her attention. "I'm not..." he reiterates. He hoped that if he said it enough, even to himself, he'd believe it. He pushes her hair back, and kisses her forehead.

The two of them smile at each other; not knowing what to say next. Shirley finally found the words. "You should probably get back to working on the case."

"Or I can stay here and nap." he chortles.

"Have you been sleeping at all?"

He wasn't even sure he knew what sleep was anymore. "Between the problems with my head and the case... I haven't." he exasperates with a fake smile.

She has him lie down. After some time passed he eventually fell asleep on the couch. Carl walks in and sees him there.

She shushes him and says, "He was tired. I figured he needed the sleep."

He jests, "I so cherish these moments when the children aren't pelting each other with paintballs, or getting arrested."

She asks, "We have children?"

"Face it, Shirley. We're the parents in this dysfunctional family."

"At least we don't have to potty train them."

Carl laughs and says, "That I'm not so sure of." He glances over at the clock hanging on the wall. "We should get going."

She tries waking Alan up. He groans; he doesn't want to leave.

"Sweetie, I have to go." she says.

He wakes up enough to realise what just happened. "You called me 'sweetie'."

She scoffs and says to him, "It won't happen again. Come on, out you go."

He stretches; his eyes beg for him to stay and sleep longer.

She sighs. "All right, just shut the door when you leave." she says.

He flops back down on the couch and almost immediately falls asleep.

* * *

Hours later Jerry comes barrelling through the halls, heading straight for Alan's office. He almost ran into the Chinese group who were looking to acquire the firm. He runs in and starts cheering and jumping on the couch in his office.

"Don't tell me. You love Katie." Alan says.

Completely ignoring Alan, he tells him, "A Federal case in Newark recently granted a plaintiff the right to use an experimental drug. It's the most recent case on point. I found it. Katie helped,"

He's talking so fast, Alan can barley keep up.

"It's not binding, but it could explain why they agreed to hear us."

"A new case?"

"I found it. Katie helped." He then rushes out the door; almost forgetting to hand over said case to Alan. He squints his eyes; assuming that at some point he'd come back with it. Jerry rushes back and slaps it on Alan's desk. "New case. I found it." He then leaves again.

Alan looks it over. It does seem sort of promising, even though it's not binding. Seconds after reading it, his vision becomes blurry. He begins to feel light headed and he almost falls out of his chair. He grabs a hold of his desk to keep from falling. "Please. Not now." he begs aloud. He pops three anticonvulsants and lies down on the sofa.

After the hearing, and after Alan's small seizure, Denny decides to pay Alan a visit. He's stands in Alan's doorway. He hasn't noticed him yet; he's busy looking over files. "Alan?"

He looks up and finally sees him. "Hello, Denny." Alan chortles.

Denny's smile fades into a slight look of anxiety.

"What's wrong? Did it not go well?" Alan asks.

He shrugs and sits down. "I have to talk to you about something."

"Come to take back your proposal?"

Denny isn't finding it funny. He doesn't break eye contact. Alan is a little scared now.

"What's up, Denny?" he asks. A lot of scenarios went through Alan's head. Him finding out about his condition was the one that worried him the most.

"Alan, I'm just going to say this once.,"

Now Alan is truly concerned.

"I care about you. If we hadn't met, I wouldn't be here at this firm. I was about to quit before I met you, as I'm sure you'll remember..." Denny admits. "And... if it turns out that we— Well, at least you made it more fun for me. So, thank you... for being here."

Alan's mouth was agape. He didn't quite know how to respond to that. He shuts his mouth and gives Denny a loving smile. "Y-you're welcome… So, did the… judge rule?"

"After lunch." Denny replies.

"Suppose we lose: Has anyone... made it clear how the firm might change?"

"Paul says it won't, Shirley is convinced otherwise. Jerry was hopping around. He said he found a new case on point?"

"There was a federal court ruling in support of giving experimental drugs. District court, so it won't be binding. But it'll help. I'm hopeful, anyway. I'm also trying to get you into the clinical trials for Dimebolin, but I'm not confident in that."

"Have you given any more thought to my idea?"

With a tilt of the head, Alan asks, "What idea?" 

Denny gives Alan a knowing nod.

"Marrying you."

"We're committed to each other. Let's make it legal."

Alan doesn't respond to him. He only smiles.

"Well, I'll leave you to it." Denny says. Just before leaving he stops in the doorway. "Shirley and I are grabbing a bite to eat. Care to join us?"

Alan chuckles and says, "I should just stick with working on our case. Have fun, though."

Denny shrugs his shoulders. "Your loss."

Just as he was walking out the door, Alan stops him. "Denny?"

He turns around. "Yeah?"

"What you said was— I'll _always_ be here for you." Alan says, even though he knew it possibly wasn't true. At any moment he could die.

Denny hesitantly smiles. "All right, all right. Enough mush." he protests. He attempts to leave again.

"Right." Alan mutters. In that moment Alan almost felt better. He hoped that he truly would always be there for Denny. These days he's unsure.

* * *

Shirley and Carl talk in her office. "I didn't mean to get emotional in the courtroom," she says. "Maybe it's a bad sign that my personal legacy is so tied to my profession instead of— I hardly ever talk to my daughter... I _don't_ to my sister."

"We could always start a family." Carl jests. He manages to get her to laugh. "Shirley, aren't you excited about getting married?"

"Of course I am. Why would you ask that?"

"Most brides are obsessed with their wedding day."

She scoffs. "Please, I've had too many of them."

Carl instantly becomes disheartened.

"I didn't mean for it to sound like that." she insists.

He asks, "Do you want to postpone it?"

"No, let's just get it over with before I— Okay, I definitely didn't mean for that to sound that way." she reassures as she heads over to him to give him a hug.

"See, this is when I get insecure and want to run back to New York."

She puts her hands on his shoulders. She reassures him, "I want to marry you more than anything, and I don't want to delay it a single second. In all of this madness don't let my love for you get lost, okay?"

"Okay." he says, smiling.

They tenderly kiss, and unfortunately Denny walks in on them once more. "Judas priest, again with the kissing. Is this for my benefit?"

She retorts, "No, Denny, it's for mine. Do you need something?"

"Do we have a ruling yet?"

"No, not yet. We're still waiting—" She notices Paul; he's standing outside the door way.

"The judge ruled. Your injunction was denied, the merger is valid," he says. "Look, none of us wanted this to happen, but we have responsibilities to others. Like it or not, this firm is bigger than all of us."

Her eyes begin welling up. Denny can't stand to see her like this.

* * *

Jerry, Katie, Alan and Denny are in the conference room. Cardboard cutouts of the Supreme Court justices still sit around the table as they conduct a mock session. Jerry has his wooden cigarette in his mouth to help with his confidence.

Alan begins, "I would submit that there are four factors the Court must look at. First—"

Jerry, portraying the justices, says, "Woah, woah. You don't get to tell us what we must do. Start again."

Alan winces at Jerry as he asks, "What justice are you supposed to be, Jerry?"

He takes his cigarette out of his mouth and replies, "I was kind of a composite."

Denny looks perplexed.

Alan starts over again. "I would like the court to consider four factors in determining whether my client qualifies for the compassion exception—"

Jerry stops him right there. "You've come to the Supreme Court looking for compassion? Boy, did you walk into the wrong room, I tell ya."

Alan was once again getting fed up. "Jerry, they won't do that. Can you lose the cigarette and play it straight? This is kind of an important case."

Carl and Shirley stand outside of the conference room. "I don't know if I can do this." Shirley quavers. She turns to face the rest of them. "I mean, look at them. They have enough to worry about as it is."

"You know you have to." Carl insists.

She sighs in defeat. It would be best if they all heard it from them rather than find out the hard way by being thrown on their asses. Shirley and Carl came into the conference room to bring the bad news.

Alan let out an exasperated sigh. "What is it?"

Denny asks, "Am I already dead?"

Shirley, with a heavy heart, explains, "Effective January 1st, the entire litigation department will be replaced."

"What are you talking about?" Alan chortles. "We've all been fired?"

"'Fired' is such an ugly, Alan. An accurate one but..." Carl says, his thought tapering off.

"I am sorry. This is no doubt because I antagonised them."

"Fired? All of us?" Katie asks in disbelief.

Denny wonderes, "Even me?"

"Especially you," Carl says, unbelieving that he even has to ask. "They fired you twice."

* * *

The six of them; Alan, Denny, Katie, Jerry, Carl and Shirley, are now sitting at a table in a bar.

"We've been dead before, then suddenly like from the planet Mars, life." Denny says, hoping it would reassure them.

Shirley says, "I suppose we could start our own firm, but frankly, I don't know if I have the energy or the will—"

Denny quickly cuts her off. "Never surrender, Shirley. Especially to a bunch of commies."

Alan is keeping quiet, occasionally sipping his drink.

"It's not about surrendering, Denny. It's just that it's time for me to marry the man I love and start a real life."

Denny grabs her hand and looks at her lovingly.

"I-I meant with Carl." she adds. "Look, if you could permit an old lady to peddle some advice: whatever you do next, make sure it's something you love. A life, personal or professional, without passion you're dead." Shirley says to everyone.

Jerry is almost in tears. He had just made partner, and he would miss everyone.

"Jerry, this can be the start of a good thing." Shirley reassures him.

"I'm just not good with goodbyes." Jerry says, struggling to keep the tears in.

"We are going to come through this, and we will do that by focusing on what's immediately ahead. For me, that's my wedding, which is this Saturday, you're all of course invited."

"That's rushing it, isn't it? You just got engaged." Denny says.

"I'm knocked up, Denny,"

Denny gasps; he actually believes her.

"I'm kidding,"

Carl laughs slightly.

"As for the four of you, you must concentrate all your focus and energy on the Supreme Court argument. How do you stand on that?"

Jerry responds, "Well, I found a new case on point. Katie helped. There is precedent for allowing an experimental drug."

Shirley looks to Alan. "Alan, you're being awfully quiet."

He inhales deeply and mutters, "We'll be ready by Friday." He takes another sip of his drink.

"What are you thinking?"

He was thinking a multitude of things, most of which he couldn't say. Eventually, he tells her at least one thought that's rattling around in his mind. "I think we should fire them."

"What's that now?" Shirley asks.

"Our new bosses. It's not fair that they fired us, I think we should fire them."

Everyone looks at one another in perplexity and then back at Alan.

"I know you're good, but how exactly would that work?" Carl asks.

Alan utters a slight chuckle and says, "We'll get us a meeting."

* * *

They're all in the elevator on the way to the meeting. Alan tries to get everyone riled up. He begins, "Let me remind you all…" he looks at Denny, "Especially you, Denny. I will do all of the talking."

Denny whips out his gun. "But if you strike out, can I at least shoot them?"

Every single one of them shouts, "No!"

Denny looks disappointed.

Shirley says, "I know there's a lot riding on this meeting, but I want you all to just stay calm. Alan can handle this. Can't you?"

Alan randomly asks, "Larry Storch played Haggard, right?"

Jerry replies, "On F-Troop, yes."

Katie asks, "What's F-Troop?"

Then Denny comments, "I loved F-Troop."

"Good lord…" Carl mutters. Even though Carl is used to Alan and his actions, even though he knows he would never change even for a second, he still can't believe how he can abruptly just start talking about a television series at at time like this.

They all walk into the conference room.

"Greetings, our Chinese carpet baggers." Alan says, adding, "I understand it's customary to bow."

Shirley mutters, "That's the Japanese."

They all continue bowing regardless.

"OK, that concludes the bowing and cow towing portion of the presentation. I'm told we need an interpreter."

Lee says, "Actually, almost everybody here can understand English. And since this is a unilateral presentation, why don't you just talk?"

"Excellent, we didn't allow time for you to speak, anyway."

Denny knew that this was the beginning of a long, long one sided conversation. And he was right.

"So, where to begin? How about 'Welcome to Crane, Poole and Schmidt. I'm afraid you're all fired.'" he says with a fake frown. "Nothing personal. You seem like nice folks, but it's not working out. Out you go, single file please. Bye-bye."

They all don't know what to make of this.

"Mr. Shore, we now own the firm." Lee insists.

"Well, that doesn't much matter. This is America, and in America it all comes down to the jury likes better, and I don't think an American jury will side with communists, do you? Juries typically frown on oppressors."

"On what grounds could you possibly prevail?"

Alan chortles. " _Grounds_?" he echose. "Who cares about that? Cases always come down to who the jury likes better." Alan turns around to face his friends. "Did I not just say this?" he asks them. He continues, "So anyway, meet the group. We're a fine, likeable group. With infectious smiles. Smile group."

They do, forcefully. Meanwhile, Alan goes on... and on

"And best of all, bad for you, we're very good. Did you check out our win loss record? More importantly, do you know the cases we do? Typically preposterous, mostly unwinable on their face, and yet we win them. Here we actually have grounds. For you to summarily _schmidtcan_ an entire litigation department, a successful one no less because, well... I guess you don't _like us_. It seems arbitrary, capricious, actionable, _winnable_ of all things. It doesn't really seem fair, does it? For us to have both merits and smiles. Smile group."

They smile once again. Denny wonders how he doesn't pass out from all that talking.

"But we do. A wrongful discharge, subject to compensatory and punitive damages could be lots and lots of money. Not to mention the fallout here at the firm. We're not just good litigators, we're popular. Again, come be the smiles." He begins pacing. "And firing us? Well that would a terrible way to introduce yourselves. Here's a little tidbit: we Americans love to trade on fear. The fear I'll be trading on is China — taking our jobs. Now you want active control. That scares Americans; Active communists, made in China, seeking control... _Ooh_! Scary! One last thought: we're giant slayers here, it's what we do. Be it US government, pharmaceutical companies, big tobacco... and just when we thought we were fresh out of bigs, along comes _you!_ The poster child for big. Well, here's your out. We'll agree not to fire you, not to sue, on one condition: we stay, and we stay in charge. Do what you want with corporate or tax, but in litigation we run the show. Shirley Schmidt, Denny Crane, Carl Sack, Jerry Espenson, Katie Llyod, me. It's our party. Stay out of our way, we'll stay out of yours. _That_ is the deal."

Finally Alan has finished. A few seconds pass and the all the Chinese men laugh and clap as if it were some sort of performance.

"Not sure you got the desired effect there, Al." Carl says.

Alan doesn't quite know how to respond, so he just takes a bow.

* * *

By some miracle they all get their jobs back. Alan was truly amazing. Shirley comes into Alan's office and tells him the good news. He doesn't see her at first. She sharply inhales, and he looks up from his desk.

"They have decided to reinstate us. Evidently they agree it would send a bad message to fire us all." she says.

"Which means they probably plan to do more gradually."

"Perhaps. They are bringing in someone new to oversee litigation. I don't know who yet, but for now... more life on Mars, I guess."

"Are we sure we even want it? We can now leave on our own terms."

"I think... we should just focus on the Supreme Court, _and_ my wedding... and we'll take it from there."

He slightly smiles.

"Thank you, Alan. You... really are something." she says relieved that it’s over for now.

Alan stares at her a moment. "Usually when a woman says that, it's to get inside my—"

"Alan!" She pauses and continues, "See you tomorrow. That feels good to say."

She leaves, and Alan is alone in his office, wondering if it was worth the fight.

Deciding to take a break from working on their case, he began to wander the halls. Anything to keep from crying or throwing up. He sees Denny sitting on his balcony, waiting for him to show up. He wasn't sure if he was up for a cigar and scotch tonight. He stood in Denny's office doorway for a long time. He was completely broken. Eventually he went out to join Denny. He grabbed some scotch, even though he felt sick. Jumping off the balcony was all but undesirable at the moment.

"There you are." Denny chortles.

"How are you doing?" Alan asks.

He shrugs and says, "I've had better days. Worst, too. So, we live again."

Alan plops down in his seat. "For now." Alan says with a sigh.

"Hellova speech, Alan. I even listened this time."

Alan laughs and asks, "To all of it?"

He scoffs. "Don't be ridiculous."

"I've been thinking about what Shirley said. Loving life, loving your job... If I could do anything, it would be to open my own legal aid firm."

Denny asks, "What the hell is that?"

He replies, "It's a firm where you give your services away for free."

"What's the point in that?"

Alan chortles Denny's name and adds, "In this economy, those are going to be the first services to go. The problem is funding it."

"You know where this is headed." he says.

Alan knew full well where it was headed, but regardless he asks, "Where?"

Denny grins and replies, "Straight to the altar."

Alan scoffs, then stares into his drink.

"Alan... I have more money than God, unless he timed the market. But I can't give it to you 'cause the government will take half with the gift tax, and I can't die and leave it to you 'cause of the estate tax. If you were my spouse, I could give it to you, leave it to you. What's mine is yours, and the government can't touch it."

"Oh, for that matter, you could open a business or start a foundation—"

Denny interrupts, "In which case, you can't use it for incidentals like travel, fishing. And the way you go after the government? They already audit you. They'll find a way to nail you for commingling or malfeasance, whatever... but the cleanest, simplest way to transfer property is marriage. And all those other reasons, too. Medical, spousal privilege... immunity."

Alan still couldn't believe he was having this conversation again. "Denny, it's beyond ridiculous. Even for us." he says.

Denny kind of agrees, but he still had his reasons. "I've always wanted to remarry before I died."

"Really? Why?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "I just have. And like it or not... you're the man I love."

He just stares at Denny; thinking of how silly of an idea it was.

"Think of all the, uh... what do you call 'em? Poor people?"

"Yes." Alan answers as he stares deadpan at Denny.

"Think of all the poor people you can help, allocating my wealth to them and not the Iraq war or the Wall Street bailout. Take my hand, Alan. Take my money."

"I always thought that if I remarried, it'd be for love or romance-"

"You love me. Romance never lasts... money can."

If it weren’t for the fact that he needs support now more than ever, he would say no — but he did — they both did. Alan sighs heavily and finally succumbs. "Okay, Denny. I will marry you."

In disbelief of Alan's answer he asks, "Really?"

"Why not? I suppose it had to come to this." He chuckles.

They hug each other tight, patting each other’s backs gently.

"Maybe we could do it on the dock of Nimmo Bay." Alan adds.

"Perfect! A salmon in one hand—"

"Me in the other. Let no man tear asunder."

There they stood on the balcony: Denny Crane and Alan Shore, soon to be Husband and Mad Cow. 


	4. Last Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last of redone ‘scripts’. 
> 
> I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t choaked up while writing this, despite knowing what was going to happen anyway.

It almost felt pointless to go back to work the next day. Alan didn't feel the same about this please anymore and he was certain everyone else felt the same way. Nothing had changed, yet it felt so wrong. While he was still plugging away at the Supreme Court case that night, Denny, Shirley and Carl were doing wedding rehearsals. Denny was going to be giving Shirley away. Since Shirley was Christian and Carl was Jewish, they had both a minister and a rabbi present; Father Joseph Martin and Rabbi Saul Levine.

"I don't approve of this union at all," Saul says.

They all look at each other in confusion.

Saul goes on, "There's a very old joke; do you know what the child of a Jew and a Christian is? A Christian."

Denny then starts laughing while no one else is finding this funny.

"Do you know the most oppressed religion in America today?" Joseph asks. No one answers. "Christianity." he says.

"Hear, hear." Denny says.

"It's Christmas time! Christmas has become verboten. You can't even say the word." he chortles.

"Interesting, he speaks German." Saul retorts.

"Maybe we should start over." Shirley says but no one is listening.

"I'd like to know what you meant by that." Joseph says, still talking to Saul.

"I just have a peeve over how the Catholic Church turned its back on the holocaust."

Shirley keeps trying to stop them but it's no use.

"I love it. A holy war!" Denny exclaims.

Joseph then explains, "The Catholic Church has been unwavering in its support of Israel, at great risk to America, I might add. Much of the violence directed at our country stems from our support of Israel. Support which is surely as disproportionate, since Israel probably shouldn't need to exist anymore."

Shirley mutters, "Well, that should seal it."

Saul asks in disbelief, "Did you actually just say that?"

"I mean, it was created as a refuge, a safe haven. Jews are doing fine now. So what's the point?"

It just made matters worse. Before they knew it, the Rabbi stormed out and Father Joseph denied Shirley used of the church. It's not looking good for them.

* * *

The next morning Denny and Alan went down to the records office to apply for a marriage license.

"You should've been there, Alan. It was ugly." Denny whispered.

"Why were you rehearsing on a Wednesday? I thought—"

" _Because_ I'll be in the Supreme Court on Friday filling a drug prescription," Denny glances over at the records clerk and murmurs, "Check out the hair lip on that clerk."

"Denny, do not say anything offensive. Let's just get this done without incident."

They walk up to the desk.

"Can I help you?" the woman asks.

"Yes, we'd like to apply for a moustache—" He stops a moment, then corrects himself. "A _marriage_ license." Alan says  dying from embarrassment on the inside.

"You two are getting married?" she asks.

"Is there a reason we shouldn't?" he asks.

Denny steps up to the window and says, "Other than maybe... you and I should get together. We plan an open door marriage." He slides a piece of paper in the slot. "My card."

" _You're_ heterosexual." she notes. She looks to Alan and asks, "Are you?"

He grabs Denny by the bicep and pulls him closer. "Is that a problem?" he asks. He holds Denny's hand and adds, "He completes me."

She shakes her head and draws up the paperwork regardless.

* * *

They were all called in for a meeting. The matter of this meeting got sidetracked by Alan's announcement. "You're getting married?!" Shirley asks, incredulous.

"Is that so wrong?"

"Well, yes! It's a sham, Alan. It is no different than two people who aren't really in love with each other marrying for a green card!"

"First of all, I love Denny and I believe he loves me. There's no requirement that a couple should be in love. In fact, given the current divorce rate, one might say that the most insidious problem with marriage is that people make life altering decisions while in love. It's a drug. A toxic one at that and scientifically proven to wear off."

Shirley stares at Alan indignantly. "What's toxic is your cynicism— I think your little scheme is dishonest."

"You've been a little testy as of late." he retorts. He looks to Carl and asks, "Do all brides get ornery?"

Carl tries to get back on track. "Let's just move on, shall we?" he asks, adding, "As you know, the sale of the firm to Zhu International has been finalised. A new head of litigation is expected to be appointed, mainly to watchdog us—"

After seeing a pretty, young woman walk in to hand a letter over, Denny chimes in. "I certainly like the new direction of the firm."

Silence fell for a few seconds.

"I have a document for a Mr. Shore and Mr. Crane." she states.

Denny was about to take it but Alan obliges, mostly because he felt like he was more responsible. "I'll take it. Thank you." He begins reading it and he can't believe it. "You've got to be kidding me." he mumbles.

Shirley asks, "What is it?"

"It's a notice of an injunction preceding, seeking to stop Denny and I from getting married." he intones. "That records clerk must've ratted us out." Alan says to Denny.

"Who's filing?" she asks.

"The Massachusetts Chapter of the Gay and Lesbian League."

"Excuse me?"

"Of all the hypocrisy— Katie, pull up whatever law you can on same-sex marriage. Jerry and I will stay focused on the Supreme Court case."

"As if we haven't got enough to do." Denny mutters.

"Are we done here?"

"We have one more item." Shirley says. Everyone at the table waiting for it while Shirley kept glancing at Carl, making sure it was a good idea to say it. "The new management decided to change the name of the firm." she tells everyone.

"To what?" Denny asks.

"Let me preface this by saying that personally, _I want_ my name off the firm, so..." she says as she tries not to upset Denny.

" _To what?_ " Denny asks again, becoming impatient.

" _Chang_ , Poole and Schmidt." she confesses.

Denny’s heart sinks in that instant, though he wasn’t too surprised.

Alan retorts, "Gee, that seems impartial."

Jerry and Katie look around at everyone else in shock.

* * *

Alan and Denny were back in Alan's office, talking and thinking.

"I simply don't understand... the logic. Your name has such recognition value." Alan muses.

"I've destroyed it haven't I? My name..." Denny asks. He felt like a complete disappointment.

"No, you haven't." Alan reassures him, shaking his head.

"You know half the stuff I do, all the sex and the... is to appear colourful. To distract people from how truly small I've become."

Alan knows at that point there is no convincing him otherwise. "I'm not about to let you sulk and ruin my wedding day," he jests with a deadpan gaze. Alan manages to get a smile out of Denny. "We'll open our own firm. We don't need them."

"We'll overturn it," Denny says as he shrugs. "Supreme Court would never side with the Chinese on this, no way."

Alan becomes immensely nervous. He didn't even know what they were talking about. Inwardly, he wonders how far gone he is. "Denny, we're going to the Supreme Court to get the drug."

He looks at Alan like he's the one loosing it. "I know that. I'm just saying." Denny was covering yet again.

* * *

Carl pops into Shirley's office. "Well? Any news on if we still have a priest?" Carl asks.

She puts down her pen and paper. "He now says that he... _might_ marry us, but not in the church. Which is, of course, what I wanted most."

"All right, so we'll find another church."

"Carl, did you think it was wise to bring in that particular Rabbi?"

"What do you mean?" he asks.

"The man is a flaming bigot! ' _The Catholics are responsible for the holocaust_?!' Really?"

"Can we talk about the Priest's little gem? 'Israel shouldn't exist.'?"

"That's a political argument. Many people have expressed it! Palestinians living in Israel will soon outnumber the Jews! The idea of it continuing as a Jewish state—"

Carl stops her. "I can't believe I'm hearing this."

"Surely, you've heard this before." she says.

He shouts, "Not from you!"

She insists, "I'm not supporting the idea..."

"Oh no, but you're defending a Priest who does. And _you're_ calling the Rabbi a bigot?"

"Yeah, a big one."

He gawks in disbelief. " _Really_? First the Chinese, now the Jews. Who's next?"

"You. Get out." she demands.

He turns to leave. "Oh, with pleasure!" he snaps.

Shirley winces as the door slams shut; it rattles her trinkets and awards on the shelves.

* * *

Alan and Denny made it to the court house. Alan was so out of it, distracted by everything else that was going on. He forgot about his own illness. He also forgot that he hadn't eaten in hours, or maybe a whole day. Right now all that matters to him is Denny and getting him the drug that could help him. They're standing outside the courtroom.

"Ready?" Denny asks.

Alan looks up form the floor. "Denny, before we go in there I have to tell you something."

"I don't think we have time. Is it urgent?"

He nods and replies, "Kind of."

They both take a seat down on the bench outside the courtroom.

"Well, what is it?" Denny asks, becoming greatly concerned.

Alan starts to think that maybe this wasn't the best time to say anything. They need to be focused right now. "You know what? Let's just talk about this another time."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. This isn't exactly the right time or place to be talking about it, anyhow," he says, inwardly regretting that he even attempted to bring it up. Now he had Denny worried. "Let's go." Alan says.

The judge, Victoria Peyton, presided. They knew she was fairly easy to persuade, and with Alan's win lose record, they had a pretty good chance.

"This does seem a bit cynical." Peyton says. "You are basically marrying Denny Crane to skirt tax laws."

"Your Honour, in this day and age, the preservation of wealth is _paramount_. And I'm sorry, before I see Mr. Crane's money go to fund immoral wars or less moral government bailouts, I'd rather see it go to me. The plans I have for it are _far_ more philanthropic." He turns to face opposing counsel, Mark Pinnard, and says, "And by the way, I love him, okay? I love the man. He loves me. We're partners. To say that we cannot get married just because we don't have sex is just as preposterous and bigoted as banning marriage based on who a person chooses to have sex with!" Alan exclaims, barely letting Mark get a word in edgewise.

"He will be fuelling the fire to pass a constitutional ban against—"

He interrupts, "You're the one stoking the embers. For what it's worth, this isn't just about money. He happens to be suffering from an incurable illness."

Mark says, "You can do that by proxy."

"He doesn't want to! He wants a partner; a legal spouse!"

"Why?"

Alan snaps, "That's his prerogative! His privacy. Do you seek to invade that, too?"

Victoria stops them before it gets out of hand. "All right. I've heard the arguments. Let me take an hour and I will decide." she says.

* * *

Court was dismissed, and the two of them went back to the firm to work on their Supreme Court case. Denny had heard who they were going up against, so he looked her up online on his laptop. "Oh my God." he gasps.

"What is it?" Alan asks.

"Look at this." he says, showing Alan a picture of the woman. "Is she not beautiful?"

"Who is she?"

"Opposing counsel. She's arguing for the government: Flying in from Tennessee."

"Ah..." Alan mutters, nearly under his breath.

"It's all good, Alan! She's hot, and doctors say blood flow in any direction is good for my brain."

Alan is truly becoming tired of that excuse, and he chooses not to hear it. "Are you packed? 'Cause we're going straight from court to the airport."

"Will you stop nagging me? We're not even married yet."

"Just get packed!"

During this small tiff between Alan and Denny, Carl was walking in the opposite direction. He wonders to himself why he keeps running into them in odd situations. He enters Shirley's office, trying to smooth over the argument they had earlier. "This is crazy." he says.

She looks up from her paperwork. "What is?"

"Neither of us are very religious people. We've never even talked about it before. Why are we letting this nonsense stand in our way?"

"Well, most people don't talk about religion, and it doesn't enter into our daily lives, but it is nevertheless a value. It's obvious you and I have different values, Carl."

"Religion isn't a value. Spirituality, sure. Belief in God, okay. But religion itself? It's a discipline; one that pretends to be about love, family and charity, too often is a vehicle of hatred and war."

She chuckles a bit and says, "It's stirring up a war between us now," She stands up out of her chair. "And it really pisses me off that it's politically incorrect to celebrate Christmas, but you get all your... Yom Kippur, Rosh Hashanah, Hanukkah, Passover. My God, you have a gazillion of them!"

Carl is speechless. He starts to leave but turns around, trying to think of something to say, but instead he scuttles off.

Then Paul Lewiston comes in. She exhaled deeply and said hello to him.

As he takes a seat in her office he says, "A little bit of good news. The dreaded monster they're bringing in to oversee litigation—"

Shirley asks, "Do we know who it is?"

"We do. Me."

" _Of course._  she thought. She wasn't the least bit surprised.

"For whatever reason, I seem to have their trust."

She knew the reason; they didn't like anyone else here, and Paul was kissing their asses. "Well, that is good news... Is there bad news?"

"Shirley, I don't think I can save Denny." he regrettably admits.

"Well, then it's a moot point, fighting for me or Alan, or Carl, probably Jerry, maybe Katie."

"If you talked to the others—"

"I won't." she blurts out.

Paul says, "Shirley, we have to face it. Denny—"

"Could get better. If he gets this drug, it is showing a lot of promise, Denny could improve."

Paul only hopes that she's right.

* * *

Alan and Denny were back in court, waiting to hear the judge's ruling.

"I do find this union to be primarily based on money," she says. "I also agree with Mr. Pinnard. This is the exact kind of exploitation the Christian Right and others feared. But I also recognise, people marry for all sorts of reasons. It's not the government's place to ask why. Sometimes gays marry other gays of the opposite sex to start a family. Be co-parents. Nothing to do with romantic love. I hardly think you believe the government should step in and stop that. Same-sex unions are legal Massachusetts. Your motion for an injunction is denied."

Alan and Denny stand up to hug each other, slapping each other hard on their backs.

"To the dock on Nimmo Bay." Denny says.

"We'll go directly from D.C."

"You know, we'll need someone from Massachusetts to preform the ceremony."

For a split second Alan wonders who could do it, then he looks to judge Peyton. "Your Honour, by any chance do you like to fish?" he asks Victoria.

Paul is in a meeting with the Chinese discussing whether Denny will stay or go.

"You can keep the others if you feel it is necessary, but Denny Crane absolutely must go." Lee insists.

Paul argues, "The lawyers here are extremely loyal to him. I will tell you this: I would not want to risk losing Alan Shore."

"Mr. Shore needs to be reigned in. We understand he's a brilliant attorney but he is undisciplined and also needs overseeing. We are not afraid to lose him, if we must, in time."

Paul couldn't believe what he was hearing. He starts wondering if this truly was the wrong choice. Shirley was right about this deal.

"Is there anything else?" Lee asks.

Paul glares coldly at all of them. "No. I think we're done here." he replies. He exits the conference room and heads to Shirley's office. "You were right." Paul says to Shirley.

She puts down her book. "I'm glad you finally realise it, but it might be too little too late, Paul. You might not have to worry too much about it. I hear Alan and Denny are opening their own firm."

He feels terribly guilty now. He asks, "And what about you?"

She pauses for a moment. "I've been thinking long and hard about this decision."

He stands in the doorway, waiting for her to finish. "Yes?"

"Paul, I quit. If I’m going to be starting a new life with Carl… Plus with the way things are heased, I— I can’t be here anymore. I’m sorry." 

He nods slowly. "I can’t say I blame you… Whatever happens, I wish you the best. I sincerely mean that."

A brief smile washes over her face. "Thank you." She extends her hand to shake his. "Good luck to you."

Granted, her departure is two weeks away, but she thought she’d say her goodbyes now. Never did she think she would leave this firm — a firm she built from the ground up. 

* * *

They boarded the next flight out to Washington. Alan was never good with flying, and his condition didn't help. He felt sick.

Unaware of what Alan was feeling, Denny says, "I'm proud of us today. I mean, I always am but today, especially..."

Alan mutters Denny's name but he doesn't hear him.

"Plus I've wanted to go to Washington with you again. You—" Denny finally notices. "Are you okay? You don't look so good."

He looks pale, and his face was shiny with sweat. He rushes to get an air sick bag, and starts retching and heaving. Alan would have ran to the washroom but he didn't think he'd make it.

An air attendant comes by and asks, "What's wrong?"

Denny tells her, "I think he's just a little air sick."

Alan wanted to tell him otherwise but he's scared to talk.

"I'll get some ice chips." She walks away.

Alan now has his head pressing against the seat in front of his, all the while muttering to himself, "Oh God." over and over again.

"Alan, are you all right?"

He avoids answering the question. "I'm sorry."

"That's okay, just... talk to me. What's wrong?"

Alan slumps back into his seat. The mere act of moving wore him out. "I don't want to talk."

"Okay. Just relax." Denny whispers.

The attendant comes back with the ice chips but Alan doesn't touch it. Denny is beginning to get worried.

After Alan and Denny landed in Washington, and after dropping their bags of at their hotel room, they went to the bar adjacent to the hotel building to try and unwind.

"Denny, shouldn't we just go up to the room? We've got a big day tomorrow. Not to mention, I don't want to look puffy on my wedding day." Alan gripes.

"Oh, stop being such a girl. Let's get a nightcap. It'll settle our nerves," Denny insists. "I hear Hilary comes here."

Alan scoffs. "Denny, she doesn't—"

"I just want to meet her once before you and I– I think she'd like me. I have a feeling about us."

Alan asks indignantly, "You and Hilary?"

"Yeah. We're both—" He stops to stare at someone at the bar counter.

"Both what?"

"That's her." Denny utters.

" _Hilary_?"

"The... Wonder Girl from Tennessee. She's at the bar. I bet she's staying at the same hotel." Denny begins to walk towards her. Alan grabs him to stop him from going up to her.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"If I could make her see me as a human being, she'll have mercy on our case tomorrow."

Alan could see why he'd think that'd work but he knew Denny far too well. "But she won't see you as a human being. You'll reveal yourself to be the animal that you are."

"Oh, give me some credit, will you?"

"You know what? I'm going up to the room. I've got too much to go over," Alan says. "Just don't say anything to that woman that she can use against us tomorrow."

"I won't."

Alan gives him a nagging glare. He waltzes over to her. Alan stands by the exit, watching to make sure he'd behave. He sits at the bar and orders a double scotch. "Mitch Shoemaker. Hello." he says to her.

She's got her nose buried in a binder filled with legal documents. "It'd be a pleasure to meet you, Mitch, if I had time. Unfortunately I don't." she says.

"Look, I'm not hitting on you. I'm old enough to be your grandfather. In fact, you remind me of my granddaughter."

"Look, Mitch—" She looks away from her papers and faces Denny. "Can I call you Mitch? Because you look like a Denny to me."

He chuckles softly and asks, "How'd you know?"

She smiles. "You're very famous." She looks away and back at her work.

He nods. "I won't bore you with my usual nonsense. You seem like a very nice young lady." That compliment grabs her attention. "I have Alzheimer's disease."

"You're not alone. Over five million Americans do. Including my own grandmother."

"How can you take the position you're taking? I would think you'd want your grandmother to have Dimebolin."

She sighs. "It's only completed two trials. There's still a lot of testing that needs to be done."

"What stage is she in?"

She inhales deeply, hoping she wouldn't breakdown in tears. "Stage three." she intones.

"Then she's lucid enough to know what you'll be arguing tomorrow."

It wasn't anything she didn't already know. She felt strongly about this and knowing that he may prevent others from getting the drug, including her grandmother, made her that much more driven. "I'm not going to discuss my family with you, Mr. Crane. What I _can_ tell you; there's a very human face on every single one of those five million people, including you. And tomorrow I'll be fighting for all of them. Including you." she tells him. She gets up to leave.

"Can I at least get your name?" he asks.

She smiles and says, "Elisa Brooks." She grabs her things. "Good night, Mr. Crane. See you in the Great Hall."

He's left to himself, pondering whether or not they made they made the right choice. True, it could save his life but at what cost?

Denny went back to their hotel room. Upon entering he saw Alan, who was passed out amongst tons of papers that were strewn about the bed. He began to clean up the mess when Alan woke up.

"Denny?" he mumbles.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Go back to sleep. I was just clearing up your mess."

"How'd it go?"

Denny sat on the other bed in the room. "Good, I think. She has a grandmother with Alzheimer's." Alan is half asleep and not fully aware.

"No kidding." he sleepily says.

Denny admits, "It felt kind of nice to know that I wasn't alone. I knew I wasn't but—" He realises that Alan is awfully still. "Did you fall asleep again?" Whether he was or wasn't, he knew he wouldn't get a response either way. After what happened on the way over here, he was starting to freak out. "Alan, wake up." He kneeled down by the bedside. "Alan!" he shouts as he shakes him.

He wakes up somewhat. "Denny, stop jostling me." he gripes.

"Oh, thank God. I thought you were dead." he says after a sigh of relief.

"I'm very much alive, Denny. And now sick."

"Sorry..."

"Just let me sleep." he mutters. He rolls over and tries getting some more sleep. They had a big day tomorrow.

* * *

It was the morning of their case. All nine of the Supreme Court justices walk out and sit down in their respective chairs.

"Do you think think they remember us?" Denny whispers to Alan.

"How could they not?"

The last time they were both here, Alan insulted every single one of them, and won his case to boot.

"Look at Ginsberg. I think she wants me."

"Clarence looks like he wants you too, Denny."

Denny nods over to Justice Scalia. "There's Cheery McChuckles."

"Alito looks glad to see us, at least."

As the rest of the people in court sit down, Denny whispers, "God, it's great to be back."

The Chief Justice, John Roberts, calls Elisa to go first. "May it please the court: The right to the terminally ill to use experimental drugs is nowhere guaranteed in our constitution." she states.

Scalia asks, "So what? Does every right have to be bestowed by the constitution?"

"Certainly not, Your Honour, but in the the absence of any law, or legislative intent—"

Alito interrupts, "Come on, counsel. If this man is dying of an incurable disease, why not give him the unapproved drug? Who does it hurt?"

"Mr. Crane is not necessarily terminal—"

Roberts then cuts her off. "Do you know something about Alzheimer's we don't?" he asks.

She responds, "I know it can take unpredictable courses."

"And all will the same ending."

"If people can simply buy the drug, they won't choose to enter into a clinical trial where they can risk getting a placebo. But dying people are willing to assume all risks. Including taking dangerous, untested drugs, which could kill them sooner. Clinical trials will get shortchanged, interfered with. The safety and efficacy of these drugs is at stake, not to mention millions of lives. My grandmother is one of the five million people with Alzheimer's." Her eyes begin to well up. Trying to keep it together, she continues, "She sits at home waiting for a cure, desperate for FDA approval, which could very well be delayed if—" She's now crying. She can't bare to loose her, not like this.

She resumes, "We've all seen how pharmaceutical companies work. It's not about finding cures so much as it is finding markets, selling. If they get to peddle promising but untested drugs, we all know they'll do it. Drugs that engender false hopes, ones with higher profit margins, if they get to skip the testing. This is not a scrupulous industry. They most certainly don't deserve a pass on clinical trials, and that is what will happen if this gets okayed by this court."

Alan leans toward Denny and whispers, "This woman is good."

She goes on way past her allotted time, reiterating what she stated earlier.

"Ms. Brooks, the light has been on for some time now." Roberts says.

She pleads, "If I could just add—"

No, you've exceeded your limit."

Giving a thin lipped smile, she closes up her folder and sits down.

Alan jokes, "I think you should get a band to play people off, you know, like the Oscars or the Emmys,"

All of the justices glare at him. None of them find it funny. The only person who finds it slightly funny is Elisa.

"Just a thought."

It's now Alan's turn for statements, but not before Justice Scalia admonishes him. "Before we get started, let's be clear on a few things. This time, you will conduct yourself in a manner befitting this court. You will address only the issue at hand and not derail yourself with a spiralling rant that serves no purpose other than—" He pauses; noticing Alan's red, blinking tie. "What is that?"

Alan looked down, saw his tie and starts laughing. "Oh, I'm sorry," he chortles. "I have a tendency not to notice the little red light there, so I've programmed my tie to also alert me when I've been talking too long. Evidently, my tie thinks that _you_ have." he explains. Here he is, making a mockery of the court already.

"Turn it off. Right now."

"Yes, sir." Alan mutters. Elisa smiles a bit at Alan. "We go way back." Alan says to her.

"Okay, Mr. Shore. Your time starts now. Use it wisely." the Chief Justice cautions.

"Thank you. Let me begin by extending a special greeting to Justice Thomas." He then waves to him, but Thomas stares blankly at him. "Still the Chatty Cathy. Okay." Alan murmers. "Where do I begin?"

Justice Scalia says, "Let's start with your brief, which was conspicuously thin on case law."

"That's because most of the case law doesn't support us. But let's face it, this court isn't big on precedent, am I right? We've had _200 years_ of The Supreme Court, and not one found a constitutional right to bear arms, but you happen to like guns, so what the hell?" He chuckles before going on. "Established case law also tells us that torture and denial of due process are bad, but evidently you favour both. You people throw out precedent with the trash here."

Roberts stops him there. "Mr. Shore, I'm curious."

" _That_ I didn't know." Alan sarcastically says.

"What could possibly possess you to want to come in here and be cocky? Do you think this helps your client?"

"Actually, the reason I am a little cocky is because my client, Denny Crane, is the little guy here, and the Supreme Court of the United States has always, always stood up for the little guy."

"You think the little guy loses out with us?"

"Don't you?"

"Come on. _Enron_ , the makers of medical devices, the tobacco industry has done very well here. This court heard seven antitrust cases in its first two terms and decided all of them in favour of big corporate defendants. And of course, the biggest player on the block, the government, always seems to win. On the other end of that particular seesaw we have the losers... Just last month you turned down a stay of execution for a Georgia man even though seven of the nine prosecution witnesses recanted,"

Elisa stares at Alan, wondering what his plan is and why he's deliberately insulting them.

"I guess you couldn't be bothered with his innocence. Maybe it was a Friday and you had plans." he retorts.

Scalia says, "Counsel, _I_ have plans. _Today_. I have a flight booked for a vacation which I have looked forward to for a long time."

"I'll try to make it quick." He then exhorts, "And speaking for all Americans, I give you permission to stay away for as long as you like." Finally getting back on track, he continues, "But first there's this matter of the little guy. He's here in your courtroom, and he's due for a win. My…" Alan looks to Denny. "client has Alzheimer's. I know what you're thinking, and you're right, Denny Crane is hardly the little guy. He's the very… biggest. He's one of the giants in our profession. But that isn't what makes him so—" Alan turns to Denny again, and smiles at him. He turns his attention back to the Justices.  
"It's his _enormous_ , _foolish_ heart and his boundless generosity. Denny has this sense of wonder and innocence like a child with all of the world before him. He has that capacity of sheer joy that most of us somehow lose along the way to adulthood."

"He is my best friend. I love him with all my heart. If I could yank that horrible disease out of his body, I would fight it and I would win. I would use every ounce of my strength and I would win, if I could—" He begins to get choked up; his voice is shaking. An emotional breakdown is imminent, but he keeps it together as best as he can. Even Denny, who hardly ever got emotional, was starting to get worked up. He quavers, "But I can't. My best friend is dying of an incurable disease that will rob him of _himself_ before it finally robs him of his _life_. And I'm sorry, but I don't give a damn what the case law says. The law—! You simply _cannot_ look a dying man in the eye and say you don't get the right to try and save yourself."

Roberts tells him, "Our problem, Mr. Shore, is that we have to safeguard the masses. Our rulings don't reach people one person at a time."

"Why can't you?"

He has a valid point, and they all knew it wouldn't be out of the question.

"Make this ruling apply only to Denny if you choose. Just _make it._ " Alan begs. "Your Honour, deeply imbedded in this court, is the individual's autonomy and personal dignity. So tell me, please. Explain to me how that can apply here. Because all I can see is that the indecency of a disease that cripples the body as it rots the brain can _only_ be exceeded by the _inhumanity_ of knowing there's a drug that could help and not letting him have it!"

Everyone falls silent. Denny is trying hard not to cry, as is Alan. He catches his breath and continues, "Contrary to the public's perception: I think, when asked, most judges and lawyers would say that the reason they went to law school was simply to help people." Once more he looks to Denny. "This man, my friend, needs your help. I beg the nine of you to look inside yourselves and revisit that question. Because today, this experimental drug isn't really his last, best hope. You are. _You are_." For a short time he still stands before them all even after he was done. Eventually he shuts his folder and sits back down. He said and did all he could. It was in their hands now.

* * *

Shirley goes into Carl's office to apologise. "Would you forgive a bridezilla going a little nuts during her wedding week?" she asks. Carl doesn't answer her. "I'm sorry. I wanted everything to be perfect because I'm marrying the greatest man I've ever met… Do you still want me?" she asks.

"Of course I do."

She steps into the room and sits down. "If you want to raise the kids jewish, I'm okay with that." she says.

He gasps mockingly and asks, "Even with all the gazillions of holidays?"

The two of them laugh softly.

"The only thing I really care about is getting to spend the rest of my life with you. So if you want to elope, let's do it." she says.

Carl puts down his glasses on the table. "I talked to Denny. He and Alan got a judge, and they're flying up to Nimmo Bay to get married. He suggested we join. Make it a joint marriage."

She retorts, "Oh yes! I had my hopes set on a church, but failing that, a fishing lodge."

He laughs and says, "It's not _just_ a fishing lodge, I'm told. Plus, who knows when we'll all be together again. A road trip could be fun."

Shortly thereafter Alan and Denny went back to the hotel and packed up, heading off to Nimmo Bay. Carl and Shirley decided to come along. Jerry and Katie are there as well.

"Hey! You made it." Denny chortles.

"Well, we didn't have much choice." Shirley says, annoyed by having her wedding somewhere other than a church. She leans to the side and sees Alan is acting a bit odd. More so than usual. "What's going on with Alan?"

Alan is staggering about on the runway of the airport.

"Oh, don't mind him. He was a little nervous so I gave him some Diazepam."

"Shouldn't you be getting him off the Tarmac at least?" Carl asks.

"You're probably right." Denny grabs Alan's attention as best as he could. "Come on, Alan. We don't need you getting ran over." he says.

Alan moves his mouth and jaw around as if he's trying to pop his jaw. "My mouth tastes weird."

"I know." Denny whispers as he pats Alan on his back.

They all cram into a small plane. As they fly over the bay, Jerry is holding his nose, trying to get his ears to pop. Alan stares out at the water below, which didn't help him feel any better. The plane shakes from turbulence, and Alan starts to panic a little. Luckily the mild sedative that Denny gave him was enough to keep him somewhat calm.

"You know, this is ridiculous." Shirley gripes.

"Yes, and we wouldn't want it any other way." Carl says with a smile.

"There it is. Nimmo Bay." Denny declares.

"Don't they get snow?" Alan wonders as he stares out the window.

"Indian summer. Must be that... global warming malarkey."

Alan really wants to say something about that remark but he figures it would be in everyone's best interest if he just kept his mouth shut. Instead he stares out at the water again.

* * *

They landed by the docks. Each of them step out; Shirley looks ravishing in her wedding gown and Denny takes no remorse in gawking at her. 

Are there bears here? Isn't this the time of year they look to fatten up?" Shirley asks Carl, who doesn’t even answer.

Jerry looks out at the scenery before him. "This really is beautiful. I'm afraid of it, though, but it's beautiful."

"What are you afraid of?" Katie asks.

"You name it. The water, the woods... Canada." Just being there sends shivers down Jerry's spine.

Justice Scalia comes out of one of the buildings. Alan turns around just at the right moment.

"Stop it." Alan says, shocked.

Everyone else turns to see what he is talking about.

 _"This_ is your vacation?" Denny asks when he finally sees Scalia.

Justice Kennedy then comes out after him.

"Oh, look, he brought his hunting buddy!" Alan chortles.

"Where's the secret service?" Carl asks, joining in on the bandwagon.

"This is fate, you must admit."

Scalia admonishes, "Don't talk to me."

"I won't. But I have to ask one little thing... I mean, it can't be ex parte — we’re on a dock. Could you look any sillier?" He leans over to Kennedy. "I know you can." He wasn't exactly going to get answers that way — he knew it. He changes his tone. "All joking aside, have you had the opportunity to think about the little favour I asked of you? I'm just dying to know. Denny is, actually." Alan asks.

Scalia decides to humour them and says, "On Monday the court will issue a one-line memo granting you the use of the experimental drug."

Denny asks, "You mean it?" He turns to everyone else, throwing his hands in the air. "I'm cured!"

Scalia attempts to leave. "Now if you'll excuse me." He wasn't going to get away that easily.

"Your Honour, Denny and I came up here to get married. I know you want to get to the river, and we did bring a judge of our own, but the possibility of an upgrade—! I at least have to ask…"

He wasn't given much choice. "All right, fine."

They all took their positions on the dock and Scalia begins, "We're going to make this fast."

Alan says, "Which is what we wanted. If I may say—"

He snips, "No you may not,"

Alan shuts his mouth.

"Do you all take your respective parties to be your lawfully wedded partners, to love, honour and obey till death do you part?"

"Uh, Your Honour, that might be a little faster than we thought…" Shirley says.

"Do you want me to do this?"

They all said, "We do."

"I now pronounce you—"

Alan corrects, "No, we were saying 'we do' to the question you asked."

He wanted to get this over and done with, however. "Can’t we just—?"

"Your Honour, this is our wedding day."

He lets out a sigh and does it for real this time. They all join hands, except Denny grabs Shirley's hand instead of Alan's. He swipes Denny's hand out of Shirley's.

Alan asks, "Are you gonna be serious about this? Because if not—"

"Alan, I've never been more serious about anything in my entire life."

Alan looks at Denny a moment. He still can't believe he's here now, getting married to _the_ Denny Crane. "All right, let's go." He and everyone else turn to face Scalia.

"Do you, Carl and Denny respectively, take Shirley and Alan respectively, to be your lawfully wedded partners, to love, honour and obey—"

Denny cuts in, "And cherish. Don't forget cherish."

"And cherish till death do you part?"

Both Carl and Denny say, "I do."

He then turns to Alan and Shirley. "And do you, Shirley and Alan respectively, take Carl and Denny respectively, to be your lawfully wedded partners, to love, honour, obey and cherish till death do you part?"

Shirley smiles at Carl. She and Alan both say, "I do."

"By the power invested in me as Justice of the Supreme Court, and by the powers of the commonwealth of the state of Massachusetts, I can't speak for Canada, I now pronounce husband and wife… and you husband and husband. You may kiss the bride."

Alan and Denny rush over to Shirley to steal a kiss.

"Oh, uh… one at a time, I guess."

Alan finally got to kiss her for the first time. Denny shoves Alan out of the way and kisses her ever so sweetly.

"And now Carl — my husband." She and Carl kiss longer than Alan and Denny combined.

"Good luck to you all." wishes Scalia.

All of them collectively say, "Thank you."

Denny turns to Alan and says, "I love you, man."

He smiles. "I love you, too, Denny."

The band they hired begins to play music — a nice, slow love song.

"Shirley, may I have my wedding dance with you?" Denny asks.

"Don't you think Carl should get the first dance?"

"Let him grab the next one! He's got you for forever."

She looks back at Carl and he lets her know it's okay. Denny takes her to the side and dances slowly with her.

"You really are a good sport, Carl." Alan chortles.

" _I'm_ a good sport? Alan, has it sunk in yet who your married to?"

He's well aware of that and he knows he's crazy for saying yes, but for some strange reason it feels right. As he watches Denny dance with Shirley, he wonders if he's not having another one of his moments where he thinks she and him are still together. It worries him, and that drug couldn't come sooner.

* * *

They come back to their balcony in Boston after the wedding, just in time to enjoy some cigars and scotch. As cold as it is, Alan is thankful he isn’t wearing a dress like Shirley's, even though deep down he wanted to, simply to throw Denny off.

"I tell you Alan, with this drug… I can feel the fog lifting just thinking about it!"

There's a few seconds of silence.

"We're married!" Denny exclaimed, his mind all over the place.

"We are going to face ridicule, Denny. Don't be fooled."

"It's all worth it," Denny puffs on his cigar for a moment. "Are we going to… open our own firm or are we going to stay with this one?"

"We don't have to decide tonight. Let's just sit here like an old married couple." Which was a nice segway to the next topic. "Speaking of, I was a _little_ insulted you danced with Shirley instead of me."

"Are you jealous?"

Alan scoffs. "We did get married. I think a little attention is in order before your eyes start roving."

"You wanted a dance?"

"I did."

Denny sets his glass down. "Let's do it now."

"Well, the moment has passed." Alan pouts, looking down at his drink.

He gets up out of his chair. "No it hasn't. We're here, now. We're in the moment."

Alan still refuses to get up to dance, especially if it's out of pity.

"Is this the way it's gonna be?" Denny asks, rolling his eyes.

Alan gives him a cheeky grin, all too happy to be making him work for it.

"Alan... our wedding dance."

Alan finally gets up. He gets close to Denny. "Don't try anything. And I want to lead."

"Why should you—?"

"You got to lead with Shirley, it's my turn. Just dance."

They're both dancing very closely at this point. Barely a few seconds in, Alan realises something is fishy.

"You're leading!" Alan chortles.

"I'm not!"

"Well then quit shoving me around!"

They stop dancing only to argue yet again, just like an old married couple.

"If you plan to dominate me in this marriage, let's undo it right now."

Alan retorts, "Oh, well, that's 'till death do us part' commitment."

"I can call Scalia right now—!"

Alan speaks over Denny, "You want to undo it now."

They continue arguing over each other until finally there is a short break in their bickering.

"Just… be quiet. Seize the moment. It's our wedding night."

They put a lid on it both long enough to dance once more.

"It's our wedding night." Denny echoes. He couldn't believe it himself.

They spend the better half of the time dancing. It wasn’t until Alan started to feel dizzy that they stopped. He tries grabbing Denny's arm to stop from collapsing.

"You okay?" Denny asks.

"I'm fine."

"Come on," He takes him by the forearm, and he sits him down in his office. "Maybe I spun you around too much."

Alan smiles. "Perhaps." He stares gravely at the floor, deeply pondering. " _Just say it,_ " he says to himself. " _Right now. Nothing is stopping you this time._ " Alan’s brows furrow; he sharply inhales. "Denny, I—"

He says something before he could finish. "We should honeymoon in Vegas. What do you think?"

For a moment Alan is dumbfounded. He then shoots him a dirty look. "Really?" Alan asks with some disdain in his voice.

"Why not?" He shrugs his shoulders. "Sin City. Plus, a little gambling never hurt anyone."

"What about Atlanta? Or Russia?"

Denny looks at Alan despairingly. As if he could resist that look. Alan sighs in defeat. "Fine. But if you lose money don't count on us spooning." Alan jokes.

"Fine." Denny echoes. "So… Vegas?"

"First thing tomorrow, we'll go."

Denny is more excited to go than Alan. He can appreciate his enthusiasm, but he feared he would ruin it with a seizure or a black out. The last thing Alan wanted was for Denny to see him at his worst.

"Sorry, Alan. I just realised you were gonna say something."

Alan bobbles his head for a second. "It was nothing." He smiles again, and raises his glass. "To the future…" Anything to change the subject.

"I’ll drink to that." He downs the last bit of scotch, minus the dregs. 

Once again, Alan goes home to curse at himself, beat himself up for not saying anything. Words are his friends but they seem to be abandoning him whenever it came time to confess.

" _Shirley is going to murder me_." he thought. "Not that it matters much…" he says aloud. He sighs in defeat, and switches his bedroom light off. He simply lies awake, in darkness, staring at the ceiling until he eventually drifts off hours later. 


End file.
